Supernatural redone
by Darth Caedus vs Darth Revan
Summary: All the supernatural seasons redone with more characters and more love.
1. season 1

_If you walked into the warehouse, it was unlikely you'd notice anyone was there. Even if you brought a flashlight and really craned your neck, it was unlikely you'd ever see the two teenagers sat cross legged at the very back, both of Korean descent, both girls, but one a few years older than the other. "This is a bad idea, Felicity." The younger groaned._

_Felicity smiled. Compared to her younger sister, she was beautiful. While her sister was chocolate box pretty, Felicity was beautiful. The younger had always thought she belonged on a cover of a fashion magazine. "Don't be silly, Bea." She cooed. "It's only a silly script."_

_Beatrice stared skeptically at the latin passage she had found and printed out. Now, she regretted it showing it to her sister. She should have known she'd want to read it. Felicity had always liked to play tricks and games, but this felt like it was going too far. "Please, Felicity," Beatrice tried again and this time her sister laughed, shaking her head as she dismissed the younger._

_ "__Stop being so childish." She unfolded the paper, scanned it a couple of times and then began to read aloud. She paused, glancing around the room. "Why is nothing…" Her words died mid air as, through the ventilation chamber, black smoke drifted into the room. "What the Hell?"_

_ "__Felicity!" Beatrice cried. The black smoke lingered like mist and before either sister could do anything at all it forced itself down Felicity's throat and up her nose. She screamed, her body jerking back and Beatrice heard every bone in her neck break simultaneously. She slumped to the ground with a 'thud', a foul mixture of black sludge and blood leaking from her mouth. "Felicity?" Beatrice whispered, placing a tentative hand on her sister's shoulder. She realized with a pang that her sister was dead, and she couldn't help but believe it was her fault._

Beatrice Wells awoke in a cold sweat. Inside her chest her heart thundered so hard she was worried it might burst through her ribs, and her fringe stuck to her forehead with a cold sweat. She cursed under her breath, collapsing back on her pillow as she tried desperately to assure herself it was just a dream, even though she knew it wasn't. Her sister was dead. It was her fault.

The motel room she occupied was dimly lit only by the dull glow of a laptop screen that her roommate and best friend was hunched over as he snored quietly. He must have fallen asleep in his attempt to contact his brother, which didn't surprise her in the slightest. "Dean?" She sat up in bed, combing her fingers through her hair to push it back from her eyes. "Dean, wake up."

He bolted upright from his sleep, near enough knocking the laptop from the table. "What? Who died?" He asked comically, looking around the room in a daze. Beatrice rolled her eyes as she got out of bed and joined him at the table, shutting the lid of the laptop and plunging the room into darkness.

"No one died, Dean. Just a bad dream."

"Your sister, right," he nodded knowingly and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his flannel sleeve. "We're gonna' get Sam, and we're gonna' end this, right? For both of us."

"Thank you Dean, really. For everything." She smiled.

"You're welcome. It's my duty, you're like the baby sister I never wanted." He winked and rose from the seat, squinting at the clock on the wall to try and make out the numbers in the dark. "If we set off now we could probably reach Sam within a couple of hours."

Autumn threw her jacket on over her clothes. She'd picked up the habit of sleeping in her clothes during her time with Dean. She'd had to learn that you might have to get up and fight at any time, or in this case get up and leave.

She locked the motel door behind her as her and Dean left and dropped the keys at the front desk even though there was no one there. She knew she couldn't sleep for the fear of nightmares and Dean's taste for loud music, so she knew it would be a long drive.

"Dean, I don't think breaking in is the right way to go about this," she mused, watching Dean shimmy awkwardly up the drainpipe that led to the fire escape that would take them to Sam's window. "Maybe knocking would be a more efficient way of doing it."

"If I knocked, he wouldn't answer," he grumbled and as he reached the fire escape, he offered a hand to help her up which she accepted gratefully. "You got any idea how to open a locked window?"

"That's basic stuff," she laughed as she wriggled her knife under the latch, "I thought your Dad would have taught you this stuff."

"Yeah, well maybe I forgot." He said crossly. The window slid loose and Beatrice held it open while he climbed through. He landed with a unruly crash and she rolled her eyes as she sat on the sill and swung her legs into the apartment, dropping down beside Dean.

"Couldn't be any more obvious, could you?" She said sarcastically, straightening up and brushing the dust from her front, smoothing out the creases with the palms of her hand. A creak came from somewhere within the house and before she could make sense of the noise, Dean was on the ground. He had successfully pinned down his Brother, the baseball bat he'd been carrying discarded among a pile of textbooks and laundry.

"Easy tiger." Dean grinned.

"Dean? You scared the crap outta' me!" Sam yelled.

"That's cause' you're outta' practice," Dean countered. Sam made a snarling noise that came straight from the back of his throat and he threw Dean off, holding him down by his shoulders. "Or not. Get off me." He shoved Sam and got up.

"What the Hell are you doing here?" He cried as Dean crossed the room to the fridge, and then he spotted Beatrice. "And who the Hell is she?"

"Well, I'm getting a beer. And that's Bea."

"It's just Beatrice." She corrected him but both men ignored her.

"Yeah, but what the Hell are you doing _here_?" Sam demanded.

"Okay, all right. We gotta talk." Dean shrugged and opened the beer on the counter. Sam stared at him like he'd grown a second head and folded his arms defensively over his broad chest.

"The phone?"

"If I'd have called, would you have picked up?" As he spoke, a pretty blonde girl wandered in.

"Sam?" She asked sleepily. Beatrice threw a glare at Dean.

"You never mentioned a girl." She muttered to him.

"Yeah, I didn't know there was one."

"Dean, Bea, this is my girlfriend Jessica." Sam introduced them but Beatrice could hear the contempt in his voice.

"Wait, your brother Dean?" Jess smiled. "You must be his girlfriend."

"That's right," Beatrice cut in before Dean or Sam could, "we're so sorry for dropping in so late, but we were driving through the area and well, Dean and I just couldn't resist paying Sam a visit. Isn't that right, Dean?" She stared at him expectantly but he seemed to be in a daze.

"Oh, I love the smurfs. You know, I gotta tell you, you are way out of my brother's league." Dean grinned. Jess raised her eyebrows and motioned back to the bedroom.

"I'm gonna go put something on."

"Oh no, I wouldn't dream of it. Seriously." Beatrice slapped Dean's arm, her expression hardening into a glare.

"Dean, shut the Hell up."

He smiled sheepishly at her as he seemed to snap out of it.. "Anyway, we gotta borrow your boyfriend here to talk about some private family business."

"No, anything you want to say, you can say in front of her."

"Alright. Dad hasn't been home in a few days."

"So he's working overtime on a miller time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later." Dean laughed, looking down at the ground and shaking his head before looking up again.

"Dad's on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days." Beatrice could almost see the mechanics ticking in Sam's brain. He narrowed his eyes in thought, then placed a gentle hand on his girlfriend's shoulder and offered her a warm smile.

"Excuse us Jess. Dean and I have to go outside."

"I'll uh, stay here, I guess..." Sighing, Beatrice made herself comfortable at the table, worrying a loose thread at the hem of her shirt. Neither her or Jess spoke, but the awkward silence was finally broken when the two boys returned, expressions stony.

"So, you're taking off?" Jess asked before Sam could say anything. "This about your dad? He okay?"

"Yeah. You know, just a little family drama."

"Your brother said he was on some kind of hunting trip."

"Oh, yeah. He's just deer hunting up at the cabin. He's probably got jim, jack, and josé along with him. I'm just going to bring him back."

"What about the interview?"

"I'll make the interview. I'll only be gone a couple of days."

"Sam, I mean, please," Jess pleaded with him. Sam paused by the door, craning his neck to look at her over his shoulder, "just stop, for a second. You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine."

"It's just.. you won't even talk about your family. And now you're taking off in the middle of the night to spend a weekend with them? And with Monday coming up, which is kind a huge deal."

"Hey, everything's going to be fine. I will be back in time, I promise." Sam kissed her cheek, smiling.

"At least tell me where you're going!" Jess cried, but it was too late. He was gone.

It was five hours when the beaten down Impala pulled up outside a gas station. Dean emerged from the kiosk after a few minutes, clutching two paper bags filled with unhealthy food and beer. As he got in the car, Beatrice grimaced, glancing with distaste into the bag. "Dean, what is that?"

"Breakfast," he announced with a grin, dropping the bags at her feet. "You two want any?"

"No, thanks," Sam answered for both of them immediately. "So, how'd you pay for that stuff? You and Dad still running credit card scams?"

"Yeah, well hunting isn't exactly a pro ball career."

"That's one way to put it," Beatrice sighed, fishing in her rucksack for a hastily packaged fruit salad. She'd spent so much time with Dean that the thought of junk food nauseated her. She stuck to being healthy, because it helped keep her sane.

"Besides, all we do is apply. Not our fault they actually send the cards." Dean went on. Beatrice had stopped listening. She was preoccupied with a piece of melon.

"Yeah? And what names did you write on the application this time?" Sam asked.

"Uh, Burt Afram. And his son Hector."

"That sounds about right, man. Hey, you gotta update your cassette collection."

"Why?" Dean looked at Sam like he'd insulted his honor instead of his music.

"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes. And two," he pulled out a cassette, "Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica? It's the greatest hits of mullet rock."

"Well, house rules Sammy. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole."

"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve year old." Sam grumbled from the back of the car. "It's Sam, okay?"

"Sorry, can't hear ya'. Music's too loud." Dean grinned, turning up the radio. AC/DC's hit song 'Back in Black' burst to life, and Beatrice grinned. Although Dean and her disagreed on a lot of things, they both had a very similar music taste.

It was another two hours until they arrived in Jericho and Beatrice had spent most of that time napping. After all, she'd spent the whole night crossing the country, chasing after Sam.

"Alright. Thanks." Sam closed the phone and yawned."So, there's no one matching Dad at the morgue or hospital, so that's something I guess."

Dean glanced back at him in the rear view mirror, then turned his attention back to the road. Beatrice thought it was a miracle he never crashed, considering all the time he spent with his eyes away from the road. As they advanced on a bridge, Dean paused.

"Hey, check this out." Rummaging through a box of fake ID's, he handed one to both Sam and Beatrice. She raised an eyebrow.

"Buffy Summers? Really?"

"Hey, that's a great name." He argued.

"Sure, but not exactly subtle."

As they approached the officers on the bridge, Beatrice could just about catch little snippets of conversation between the two of them. "You find anything yet?"

"No, nothing."

"No sign of struggle, no fingerprints. Nothing. Spotless. It's almost too clean.

"So this kid, Troy. He's dating your daughter, isn't he?"

"Yeah."

"How's Amy doing?"

"She's putting missing persons posters up downtown."

Dean leaned against the hood of a cop car, observing the officers who had finally noticed the trio. "You fellas had another one like this a few months back, correct?" He asked.

"And who are you?" An officer asked. The three of them flashed their FBI badges.

"Federal marshals."

"You three a little young for marshalls, aren't you?" He asked curiously, eyeing Beatrice up and down.

"Thank you, that's very kind." She said sarcastically. "You did have another one just like this, correct?" She asked in a 'no nonsense' sort of way.

"Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that." Sam decided to join in.

"So the victim, you knew him?" He asked. The officer nodded.

"Town like this, everybody knows everybody."

"Any connections between the victims, despite that they're all men?" Dean looked up from the river bank, his expression interested and eyes slightly playful.

"No. Not so far as we can tell."

"So, what's the theory?" Beatrice perched on the hood of the car Dean had been leaning against, folding her arms.

"Honestly? We don't know. Serial murdering? Kidnapping ring?"

"Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect from you guys." Every one of Dean's words dripped with sarcasm. Beatrice elbowed him hard in the ribs and Sam stood on his foot.

"Thank you for your time." Sam said, shooting Dean a look. "Gentlemen." He led the other two away, grumbling under his breath. Dean hit Sam around the back of the head. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Why'd you have to step on my foot?!"

"Why do you have to talk to officers like that?"

"Come on, they don't really know what's going on." Beatrice interrupted, seemingly tired of the brother's squabbling. She'd had it all night and couldn't be doing with it for much longer.

"We're all alone on this, I mean, if we're going to find your dad, we've got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves." As they walked, a sheriff and two genuine FBI agents walked past.

"Can I help you, kids?" The sheriff said in a way that was slightly taunting and set her teeth straight on edge.

"No sir, we were just leaving." Beatrice flashed him a charming smile and practically dragged the brothers towards the Impala.

"Agent Mulder, Scully." Dean muttered as they past, earning him another dig in the ribs.

Wandering the streets of Jericho, Beatrice couldn't help but feel slightly uneasy. It felt more like a ghost town than a tight knit community, almost as if all life had disappeared completely from the streets. Across the road from them, a lone pinned 'missing' posters to lamp posts outside a diner.

'MISSING. TROY SQUIRE'.

"I'll bet you anything that's this Amy chick." Beatrice muttered to Dean, who nodded.

"I think you might be right." He jogged across the road, following after the girl in a way that in his head felt less creepy than it looked. "You must be Amy."

"Yeah, that's me." She eyed them cautiously as Beatrice and Sam joined them.

"Troy told us about you. We're his uncles, and this is my wife, Bea. I'm Dean, and this is Sammy." Sam shot him a look.

"He never mentioned you to me." Amy leant against the red bricked wall of a café, looking unconvinced.

"Well, that's Troy, I guess." Dean chuckled.

"We're not around, much, we're up in Modesto." Sam added. Another young woman, wearing a 'Hello, my name is Rachel' sticker on her jumper came out of the diner and over to Amy.

"Hey, are you okay?" She asked the young girl gently.

"Yeah.." Amy nodded, looking down.

"Do you mind if we ask a couple of questions?" Sam asked. A Troy Squire poster flapped aimlessly in the almost non existent breeze. They followed Rachel into the diner and she positioned herself behind the counter where she could listen in on their conversation.

"I was on the phone with Troy," Amy sighed, "he was driving home. He said he'd call me right back, but he never did.."

"He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?"

Sam was likely the most empathetic of the three so had taken it upon himself to do most of the talking. Amy shook her head.

"No.. nothing I can remember."

"I like your necklace." Beatrice said suddenly, looking at the pentagram charm hanging from a shoestring around her slender neck.

"Thanks. Troy bought it for me, to scare my parents with all that devil stuff."

"Actually, it means just the opposite." Sam told her. "A pentagram is one of the most powerful protective symbols, if you believe in that stuff." Dean rolled his eyes.

"Thank you, unsolved mysteries." He leaned forward on the table. "Here's the deal. The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything.." Rachel looked down, seemingly uncomfortable and catching Beatrice's attention.

"What is it?" She asked.

"Well.. it's just, with all these guys going missing, people talk."

"What do they talk about?"

"It's kind of this local legend," Rachel let out an extended sigh, "this one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago. Anyway, she's supposedly still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever."

Beatrice exchanged a glance with Sam and Dean. If the legend was anything to go by, they had their spirit.

When they'd left the diner, the three of them made their way to the local library to research the murdered woman. Dean positioned himself at the last available computer and switched on the browser, his fingers tapping slowly at the keys.

'Female murder hitchhiking'.

Nothing.

'Female centennial highway murder'.

Nothing.

"Let me try." Sam reached over his brother to get to the computer, but Dean scowled childishly and slapped his hand away.

"I got it." He insisted. Beatrice rolled her eyes.

"Honestly. I feel like I'm dealing with children." She grumbled, but loud enough so they heard her. Sam shoved Dean's chair away and readied himself in front of the screen.

"Dude!" Dean snapped. "You're such a control freak."

"So, angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?" Sam thought aloud, ignoring Dean.

"Yeah?"

"Well, maybe it's not murder." He replaced 'murder' with suicide, to find a lot more results. He shot a triumphant look at Dean.

'_Suicide on centennial_

_A local woman's drowning death was ruled a suicide, the county sheriff's department said earlier today. Constance Welch, 24, of 4636 Breckenridge road, leapt off Sylvania bridge at mile 33 centennial highway and subsequently drowned last night_.'

Although Sam and Dean kept reading, Beatrice stopped to scribble it down in a moleskine notebook she carried. She liked to keep alive the memory of the spirits they came across in her journal.

"Does it say why did it?" She asked, looking up from the notebook. Sam nodded.

"An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Apparently her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing. Both die." Dean raised an eyebrow in question.

"Huh.."

"Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bare it." Beatrice read aloud an interview with Constance's husband, a frown playing on her lips.

"That bridge look familiar to you?" The oldest Winchester glanced at his companions.

"That's where Troy died." Beatrice concluded.

"Bingo."

It was dark. The night was consuming, thick like treacle only much blacker. The moon illuminated the bridge, the only light after the street lights had dimmed. Now, it was abandoned. Dean made his way to the edge and looked down at the river. "So, this is where Constance took the swan dive?" He asked, looking up as the height made him dizzy.

"Do you think Dad would have been here?" Sam said.

"Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him." Dean continued to walk, Sam and Beatrice not far behind.

"Okay, so now what?" Beatrice asked, wrapping her arms around herself tightly to try and keep herself warm.

"Now, we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while." Dean shrugged. Sam sighed audibly, lingering by the edge of the bridge.

"Guys, I've told you. I've gotta be back by Monday-"

"Monday, right the interview."

"Yeah."

"Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just gonna become some lawyer? Marry your girl?"

"Maybe, why not?"

"Does Jessica know the truth about you?" Beatrice challenged him. "I mean, does she know about the things you've done?" Sam narrowed his eyes to her dangerously.

"No, and she's not ever going to know."

"Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you are." Dean spat. He turned to continue walking. Sam stormed after him.

"And who's that?" Every word dripped with venom.

"You're one of us."

"No, I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life."

"You have a responsibility-" Sam cut Dean off.

"To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what Mom looked like. Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back."

Dean let out a low growl, slamming Sam into one of the steel pillars. "Don't talk about her like that." Beatrice watched them, mortified, but was distracted suddenly.

"Uh.. guys?"

Dean released Sam and followed Beatrice's steely gaze. Constance was stood on the railings of the bridge. "Well I'll be damned. Sam." Dean motioned for his brother to come closer, which he did. The woman took a good look at them before stepping off the side of the bridge into the mouth of the river below. They rushed over to the edge, only to find nothing there.

"Where did she go?" Dean demanded to know, to no one in particular.

"I don't know." Beatrice and Sam said together. Behind them, the Impala's engine sprung to life and the headlights flashed on.

"Dude, who's driving your car?" Beatrice queried. Dean, equally confused, held up the keys. It was only when the car jerked towards them that they thought to move.

They raced to the edge, and all three threw themselves over the barrier. Beatrice landed awkwardly and lost her footing, almost slipping from the railing but Sam grabbed her wrist. "I gotcha." He hoisted her up to perch beside him.

"Thanks." She gasped, struggling to get her breath back "Oh god. Where's Dean?"

"Dean!" Sam yelled, looking equally as frightened. "Dean!" He cried, this time with more urgency in his voice. Below them, a filthy and panting Dean crawled onto the river bed.

"What?" He yelled. Beatrice breathed out in relief.

"Are you alright?" She called down. He shot her a look.

"I'm super." He snapped back. Sam laughed, relieved, and pulled himself onto the bridge before helping Beatrice.

It took ten minutes of Dean slipping and falling back into the river for him to make it back up onto the bridge with Beatrice and Sam, who couldn't help but laugh upon seeing his sorry state.

"The car okay?" Beatrice asked anxiously. Even though she'd never admit it, she'd become just as attached to the Impala as Dean had.

"Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems okay now. This Constance chick, what a _bitch_!" He yelled. Beatrice rolled her dark eyes.

"Maybe don't anger the spirit further?" She suggested sarcastically.

"Well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure." Sam said. "So where's the job go from here, genius?" He settled beside Dean on the hood of the car but turned his nose up in disgust. "You smell like a toilet." Dean glared at him, then looked down in defeat.

"We should check in a motel." Beatrice suggested, cringing away from Dean.

"Yeah, I second that." Dean grumbled, going to get in the front but Beatrice stopped him.

"Maybe I should drive."

Dean didn't look happy, but he relented and climbed into the back, letting Sam and Beatrice get into the front. She turned the radio to Pink Floyd's 'Brick in the Wall' and awoke the engine, reclining in the seat with a grin. She rarely had the privilege of driving the impala but she relished in every moment he decided to let her.

No one spoke the whole journey to the motel. After twenty minutes of dead silence other than the radio, she was thankful for the croaky voice of the clerk at the front desk.

"One room, please." Dean yawned, handing the clerk a debit card. 'Hector Aframian'.

"You guys having a reunion or something?" The clerk said as he scanned the card slowly under a 1999 machine.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked with a frown.

"I had another guy. Burt Aframian. He came and bought a room for the whole month."

"Yes! That's exactly what we're doing. A reunion." Beatrice interjected before either brother could answer for themselves. "Now, what was Burt's room number?"

The motel door swung open. Sam, having just picked the lock, took a good look around. Every vertical surface had been wallpapered with maps and missing persons reports. "Woah.." Beatrice muttered aloud without really meaning to. Dean flicked the plastic light switch, frowning. He eyed a half eaten hamburger and picked it up, sniffing it before recoiling.

"I don't think he's been here for a couple of days, at least." He grimaced. Sam dipped his finger in the decaying pile of salt.

"Salt, cats eye shells... He was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in." Dean looked at the papers covering one wall. "What have you got there?"

"Centennial highway victims." Beatrice moved over beside him. She frowned, looking over the reports. Various men had been reported missing over the years. "I don't get it. I mean, different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities." Autumn finished for him.

"There's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?" Sam muttered. He flicked the switch on a bedside lamp. "Dad figured it out..." Beatrice and Dean turned to him.

"What do you mean?" The younger asked.

"He found the same article we did. Constance Welch, she's a woman in white." Dean glanced back at the photos of Constance's victims.

"You sly dogs.." He turned back to his brother. "So, if we're dealing with a woman in white, Dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it."

"She might have another weakness?" Beatrice suggested. Dean shrugged.

"Dad would want to make sure. He'd dig her up. Does it say were she's buried?" He turned to Sam, who shook his head.

"No, not that I can tell. If I were Dad, though, I'd go ask her husband." He tapped the picture of Joseph Welch with his index finger.

"If he's still alive..." Beatrice sighed.

"Alright. Why don't you, uh, see if you can find an address. I'm gonna go get cleaned up." He headed towards the bathroom, but Sam called him back, looking sincere.

"Hey, Dean? What I said about Mom and Dad, I'm sorry." He started to say, but Dean held up his hand, stopping him.

"No chick flick moments." Sam laughed.

"Alright. Jerk."

"Bitch." Dean grinned and, still smirking, disappeared into the bathroom.

Beatrice left the bathroom that morning after her shower and found Sam listening to a voicemail from Jess. "You should call her." She suggested. Sam smiled, shaking his head.

"Nah, I'll be back by tonight."

"You love her."

"More than anything."

Beatrice opened her mouth to say something else, but was cut off as Dean came into the room.

"Hey, guys. I'm starving, I'm gonna grab a little something to eat in that diner down the street. You want anything?" He said, then glanced at Autumn. "What are you _wearing_?" He asked, eyeing her up and down and drinking in her appearance, more specifically the dress she was wearing. She scowled.

"I kill demons, and look fabulous doing so." She insisted. Dean raised an eyebrow and turned back to Sam.

"No." Sam said automatically before Dean could offer him food a second time. Beatrice sighed dramatically and nodded.

"I'll come with you." She waved goodbye to Sam and followed Dean out of the door. As they left, they saw the motel clerk talking to the two officers from the day before. They thought nothing of it, until the clerk pointed at the two of them. Dean turned away, cursing under his breath once before he slipped his phone out of his pocket and called Sam.

"Dude, five oh. Take off... Uh, they kinda spotted us. Go find Dad." He shut off the phone just as the deputies approached. "Autumn, run." He muttered, but she shook her head.

"No way. This isn't the first time I've been arrested." Dean laughed at her attitude, the same one he had, and turned to the officers with a shit-eating grin.

"Problem, officers?"

"Where's your partner?" He asked, glaring at the pair.

"Partner? What partner?" Beatrice said innocently.

"Don't act so innocent, sweetheart. You're in just as much trouble as he is." The deputy snarled. Her expression dropped.

The deputy glanced at the motel and motioned for his partner to check it out. Beatrice groaned inwardly. She just hoped Sam got out in time.

"So, fake US marshall. Fake credit cards. You got anything that's real?" He asked.

"My boobs." Dean said, the same time Beatrice said, "my dick." Both burst out laughing, even as the officers slammed them both onto the hood of the car.

"You have the right to remain silent…"

"So, you want to give us your real names?" The head of office circled the two, who were handcuffed together.

"I told you, it's Nugent, Ted Nugent. This is my baby sister Angelina Nugent."

"I'm not sure you realize just how much trouble you're in, here."

"We talkin' like, misdemeanor kind of trouble, or, uh, squeal like a pig kind of trouble?" Beatrice smirked. The sheriff glared at her.

"Listen here, sugar. You've got the faces of ten missing persons taped to your wall."

"Leave her out of this, man. She's just a kid. Nothing to do with it." Dean snapped. The sheriff ignored him and went on while Beatrice shot Dean a look that read, '_just a kid?_ _Really asshole?_'

"Along with a whole lot of other Satanic mumbo jumbo," the sheriff didn't seem to notice they weren't really paying attention anymore, "kids, you are officially suspects."

"That makes sense. Because when the first one went missing in '82, I was three and she wasn't even born." Dean rolled his eyes.

"I know you've got partners. One of em's an older guy, and maybe he started the whole thing. So tell me, Dean," he tossed a brown leather book across the table, "this his?" Beatrice glanced at Dean in confusion. Dean stared at the book, unmoving.

"I thought that might be your name. See, I leafed through this. What little I could make out, I mean, it's nine kinds of crazy. But I found this, too." He flipped to a page with the words, DEAN 35-111 circled in black sharpie. Beatrice took a sharp intake of breath. Crap.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you." Dean sighed as if uninterested but Beatrice could see the gleam of sweat on his brow. "It's my high school locker combo."

"We gonna do this all night long?" Beatrice yawned.

"Look, this is ridiculous. I told you, she has nothing to do with this." Dean snapped, seeing Beatrice's eyelids drooping involuntarily.

As he spoke a deputy poked his head around the door. "We just got a 911, shots fired over Whiteford Road." The sheriff nodded.

"You have to go to the bathroom?" He asked the two.

"No." Dean answered for both of them.

"Good." He cuffed them to the table and left.

"I hate this!" Beatrice raged, her face pink as frustrated tears rolled down her cheeks. "What the Hell is this asshole's problem? We haven't done anything wrong!"

"Hey, hey. It's okay." Dean soothed her, stroking her hair. He wiped her tears with his thumb and kissed her forehead. "It's alright, Bea. I'm right here, and we're going to get out, okay?" She nodded slowly, her breathing slowly returning to normal.

"Okay." She mumbled, staring down at her hands. Dean pulled a paper clip from the journal and unfolded it, jiggling it about in the lock for a while. Ten minutes later, they were shimming down the drainpipe into the night.

Dean and Beatrice wandered into a phone booth. They called Sam, putting the phone on loudspeaker so they could both talk to him. "Fake 991 phone call? Sammy, I don't know, that's pretty illegal." He smirked.

"You're welcome." Beatrice could hear the smile in Sam's voice.

"Listen, we gotta talk." Dean continued.

"Tell me about it. So the husband was unfaithful. We're dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house, so that should be Dad's next stop."

"Sammy, would you just shut up for a second?"

"I just can't figure out why Dad hasn't destroyed the corpse yet."

"Well, that's what we're trying to tell you. He's gone. John's left Jericho." Beatrice said loudly to shut him up. The line was silent as Sam paused for thought for a moment.

"What? How do you know?"

"His journal."

"He doesn't go anywhere without that thing."

"Yeah, well he did this time."

"What's it say?"

"Ah, the same old ex marine crap."

"He wants to let us know where he's going." Dean interjected.

"Coordinates. Where to?"

"I'm not sure yet."

"I don't understand, I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job? Dean, what the hell is going on?" Before Dean could reply, there was the sound of breaks and the phone thumping against the floor.

"Sam?! Sam!" Dean and Autumn shouted at the same time. Before the line went dead, there was a single hiss.

"Take me home."

"Dean!" Beatrice ran to catch up to him. "Wait up!"

"That bitch has my brother, Bea. I'll go as fast as I want." He snarled.

"Dean, she can't kill him."

"And why not?!"

"Because Sam isn't unfaithful!" She yelled, jogging to keep up with him. Before they reached the hold house, Dean stilled, then rushed to the Impala where an invisible force had Sam pinned down in the front seat. He armed himself with a shotgun from his rucksack and pulled the trigger, once, twice, three times, over and over until the apparition disappeared and Sam sat up, groaning.

"Are you okay?" She asked, reaching for the handgun she carried everywhere with her.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine." He muttered.

"Can you move?"

"Yeah... Help me?" He pleaded silently with his eyes and Beatrice helped him sit up, placing a gentle hand on the small of his back to stop him falling again. With a hand from Dean, the two helped Sam out of the car. Constance was stood in the lounge, clutching a framed photograph of two children, who Beatrice presumed were hers.

The spirit caught sight of them and snarled, dropping the picture where it smashed on the ground. A desk flew across the room towards them, pinning them to the wall and knocking Beatrice out with the sheer force. She slumped, unconscious, over the desk.

As the two brothers fretted over Beatrice, the lights upstairs began to flicker. Terrified, Constance whirled around as water dripping down the staircase onto the carpet. At the top of the stairs, the children from the photograph were watching her.

"You came home to us, Mommy." They said in unision, sending a shudder down Dean's spine. Constance stared at them wordlessly, visibly distraught. They appeared behind her suddenly, embracing her tightly and with a sudden burst of bright, almost blinding, energy and an agonised scream from Constance, the three were gone, vanished into thin air like they hadn't been there to start with.

Dean pushed the desk to one side, catching Beatrice as she crumbled to the floor and he picked her up in a bridal style lift. She stirred, lifting her head slightly but passed out again, slumping against his chest. "So this is where she drowned her kids," he said quietly and Sam nodded.

"That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them."

"You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy." Dean grinned, adjusting Beatrice so she was slightly more comfortable in his embrace.

"Yeah, wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking, shooting Caspar in the face?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow in question. Dean glared at him.

"Hey, saved your ass." He lay Beatrice in the back of Impala and turned the radio on. 'Highway to Hell' burst into life and he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel in beat with the music. "I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car," he turned to look at Sam, "I'll kill you." Sam laughed brightly, relieved the weekend was over and he could go back to the love of his life.

The Impala tore down the road, the right headlight having blown out.

_Living easy, lovin' free. Season ticket on a one way ride. _

Sam flicked the journal open to the page scribbled with coordinates. Flashlight balanced between his neck and his shoulder, her used a ruler to find the location on the map.

_Askin' nothing. _

"Okay, so here's where Dad went." He said.

_Leave me be._

"It's called blackwater ridge, Colorado."

_Takin' everything in my stride._

Dean nodded. "Sounds charming. How far?"

_Don't need no reason. _

"About six hundred miles." Beatrice said suddenly, sitting up. "My family used to take me and my sister when we were little." She added, seeing the looks they gave her.

_Don't need rhyme._

"Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by morning." Dean grinned at Sam.

_Ain't nothin' I would rather do._

Sam glanced at him, sighing. "Dean, I, um..."

_Going down. Party time. _

"You're not going." Beatrice spoke for Dean, frowning.

_My friends are gonna be there too._

"The interview's in like, ten hours. I gotta be there." Sam admitted. Dean nodded.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Looks like it's just you and me, then." He muttered, flashing Beatrice a sad smile in the wing mirror, then he turned back to Sam. "I'll take you home."

_Highway to hell. _

The Impala pulled up outside Sam's apartment. He got out, biting his lower lip. "Call me if you find him?" Dean nodded.

"And I can maybe meet up with you later, huh?"

"Yeah, alright." Dean mumbled. He was visibly crushed, and Beatrice felt awful for him. As she got out to get into the front, she pulled Sam into a hug.

"You take care of yourself, okay? And take care of Jess, too" He nodded.

"I will. Bye, Bea." He waved once and left. Beatrice got in shotgun, sliding her hand into Dean's. He smiled weakly at her and woke up the engine. Beatrice grinned back, but then her face fell and she stared up at the apartment.

"Something isn't right."

"What?"

"Just, trust me on this." She got out of the Impala and ran into the flat, shortly followed by Dean. As she did, the smell of smoke reached her fro under the bedroom door and her eyes watered. "Dean!" She cried. Dean was already one step ahead and he kicked down the door.

The room was slowly being eaten by flames, Sam screaming on the bed. Beatrice followed his eyes and looked up. Jess was pinned to the ceiling, her stomach bloody and body singed with flames. "Oh my God..." She muttered, freezing.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, running in and grabbing his baby brother.

"Jess!" Sam let out a choked sob, trying desperately to thrown Dean off to get to his girlfriend.

"Bea, help!" Dean yelled, struggling to breathe against the smoke. She snapped out of her trance and grabbed his other hand, attempting to tug him back towards the door. "Sam! Sam!" Dean shouted, trying to get Sam's attention.

"No! Jess!" Sam howled, the fight draining from him. Dean and Beatrice dragged Sam from the bed, bodily shoving him from the room. They slammed the door behind them and inside, the room was engulfed completely in flames.

"Jess! No, Jess!" As Beatrice helped Dean drag Sam away, she could only think about how she wished Sam had called her when he had the chance.

Sam awoke suddenly from a nightmare, his breathing ragged and cheeks damp from tears he hadn't realized had fallen. It had been eight weeks since his girlfriend Jess had been murdered, and his every waking second was spent either solving cases or trying to track whatever did it.

He sighed, running a hand through his sweat-sticky hair. "Sam? Are you okay?" A voice asked from across the motel room. Sam noticed Beatrice watching him over her computer, and he nodded.

"Yeah. Just a nightmare." He muttered, sitting up.

"About Jess?" Sam nodded again. Beatrice shot him a sympathetic look. She too got nightmares about her sister's death, but had learned not to cry out in her sleep.

"I think I've found us a case." She handed him the computer, yawning. It was clear she'd not slept all night. Her face was pale underneath hastily applied makeup and her eyes were smudged with dark violet outlines that showed even through the concealer she'd tried to cover them with.

'_SHOEMAKER, STEVEN._

_The Shoemaker family is sad to announce the sudden death of of their beloved husband and father, Steven Shoemaker. Steven was 46. A short service will be held on Wednesday_.'

"What do you think happened to this guy?" Sam asked, frowning. He was visibly unsure if this was even a case and Beatrice picked up on that.

"That's what we're gonna find out. Dean's loading the Impala." Sam nodded and dressed quickly into a plaid button up and jeans. Beatrice was already dressed and had been for a while, in a large mustard jumper and some black leggings.

"Let's go, then." He yawned.

"You had a nightmare." Dean said, the second Sam got into the Impala.

"Yeah, another one. Well, at least I got some sleep.." He sighed. Dean nodded.

"Yeah. Let's go."

Four hours passed and the trio arrived in Toledo, Ohio. The hospital before them was a large, grey-bricked building with large iron railings and small, dimly lit windows. It looked more like a prison or a historical asylum than a place of welfare, and Beatrice had an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

They made their way to room 144, where a desk was placed conveniently in the middle of the room. "Hey." The morgue tech said, eyeing them suspiciously.

"Hey." Dean said in response.

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah, we're the uh..." Dean looked at the others for help.

"Med students." Autumn said quickly, to avoid raising more suspicion.

"Med students?"

"Oh, Doctor," she glanced at the second name plate on the desk, "Figlavitch didn't tell you?"

"We talked to him on the phone. He, uh, we're from Ohio state." Dean continued. "He's supposed to show us the Shoemaker corpse, for our paper."

"Well, I'm sorry. He's at lunch." The tech sighed.

"Oh, well, he said, uh.."

"You know, it doesn't matter. You don't mind showing us the body, do you?" Sam interjected, flashing the tech a charming smile.

"Doc will be back in an hour. You can wait for him if you want." His voice had an annoying monotone for it, and Beatrice grit her teeth.

"An hour? Oh. We gotta be heading back to Columbus by then." She sighed in convincing mock sadness. She glanced at Sam for confirmation, and he nodded quickly.

"Yeah."

"Uh, look, man. This paper's like half our grade, so if you don't mind helping us out-" Dean started but the tech cut him off.

"Uh, look, man. No." The tech smirked. Dean laughed a little, turning back to Sam and Beatrice with a strained smile, so forced his lips almost receded into his face.

"I'm gonna hit him in his face, I swear." He said through gritted teeth, earning a dig in the ribs from Beatrice. She sighed, pulling her purse from her bag. She laid down a few twenties.

"You going to let us in?" Her voice was patronizing and she smiled sweetly. The tech smirked, picking up the money.

"Follow me." He led them through a seemingly endless chain of corridors and wards and disinfectant until they eventually arrived at the morgue.

"Now, the newspaper said his daughter found him. She said his eyes were bleeding." Sam said, grimacing at the gory scene of the corpse. The tech covered Steven's face again.

"More than that. They practically liquefied." The tech shrugged. Beatrice shivered.

"Any sign of a struggle? Maybe somebody did it to him?" She suggested, doing her best to make sure breakfast didn't make a reappearance.

"Nope. Besides the daughter, he was all alone."

"What's the official cause of death?" Sam asked.

"Ah, doc's not sure. He's thinking massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm? Something burst up in there, that's for sure."

"What do you mean?"

"Intense cerebral bleeding. This guy had a lot more blood in his skull than anyone I've ever seen."

"The eyes, what could cause something like that?"

"Capillaries can burst. See a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims."

"Yeah? You ever see exploding eyeballs?" Dean interrupted.

"That's a first for me. But hey, I'm not the doctor."

"Hey, you think we could take a look at that police report? For uh... our paper." Beatrice said, as politely as she could, knowing one wrong word could get them kicked out.

"Well, I'm not really supposed to show you that." Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Beatrice pulled her purse from her bag and handed him another twenty.

As they left the hospital, Beatrice sighed. "Might not be one of ours. Might just be some freak medical thing."

"How many times in our long and varied career has it been some freak medical thing and not signs of a supernatural death?" Dean challenged.

"Uh, almost never." Sam smirked, ruffling Beatrice's long hair. Over the three weeks they'd spent hunting together, he'd grown to love her as Dean did.

"Exactly." Dean said, grinning at Beatrice's pouting face.

"All right, all right." She laughed. "Let's go talk to the daughter."

They entered the Shoemaker house to a wake, the last thing Beatrice wanted. She'd found it could often be difficult to interrogate someone when they were busy mourning. The attendees were all dressed either in a black suit or dress, making the three feel very out of place.

"Feel like we're underdressed." Dean muttered aloud, confirming they were all thinking the same thing and Beatrice had to suppress a smile. They wandered through the house until they reached the yard where more people were gathered, talking in hushed voices. A girl with a pixie haircut sat with another young girl who looked eerily similar to her, and two blondes.

"You must be Donna." Beatrice said gently.

"Yeah."

"Hi, uh, we're really sorry." Sam said softly.

"Thank you." She sat up straight, eyeing them suspiciously and Beatrice realized with a pang the girl was on to them. She glanced at them from the corner of her eye, willing one of them to come up with something convincing.

"I'm Sam. This is Dean, and this is our baby sister Bea. We worked with your Dad."

"You did?"

"Yeah. This whole thing, I mean, a stroke." Dean said with little sympathy. He was there to do his job and Beatrice could see how much he didn't want to be there.

"I don't really think she wants to talk about this right now." One of the blondes spat, scowling at the trio. Beatrice bit back the urge to scowl at her, feeling it would be disrespectful given the current situation.

"It's okay. I'm okay." Donna said quickly, seeing Beatrice's stormy expression.

"Were there any symptoms? Dizziness? Migraines?"

"No." Donna shook her head but the youngest, a pale girl girl with long dark hair, looked at her big sister desperately.

"That's because it wasn't a stroke!"

"Lily, don't say that." Donna muttered.

"What?" Beatrice looked quizzically between the two sisters.

"I'm sorry, she's just upset."

"No! It happened because of me." The girl insisted desperately.

"Sweetie, it didn't."

"Lily," Sam knelt down to her level, "why would you say something like that?"

"Right before he died, I said it."

"You said what?" Beatrice frowned.

"Bloody Mary. Three times, in the bathroom mirror." An uncomfortable silence fell across the group, before Lily spoke again. "She took his eyes. That's what she does!"

"That's not why dad died. This wasn't your fault." Donna soothed her.

"I think your sister's right, Lily. There's no way it could have been Bloody Mary. Your dad didn't say it, did he?" Dean said to the tearful girl, who shook her head.

"No.. I don't think so."

Back up on the top floor corridor of the house, Autumn sighed. "The Bloody Mary legend.. Did John ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?" She asked, giving the bathroom mirror a once over.

"Not that I know of." Dean muttered, appearing beside her. Sam stooped to the floor, scraping his finger along the dried blood.

"I mean, everywhere else, all over the country, kids will play Bloody Mary, and as far as we know nobody dies from it." He sighed, straightening up once more.

"Yeah, well. Maybe everywhere it's just a story, but here it's actually happening." Dean muttered.

"The place where the legend began?" Beatrice suggested with a glance at Dean. He shrugged and opened the medicine cabinet.

"But according to the legend, the person who says B-" Sam paused, closing the cabinet so the mirror was no longer facing him, "the person who says you know what gets it. But here-"

"-Shoemaker gets it instead, yeah." Dean finished.

"Right."

"Never heard anything like that before. Still, the guy did die right in front of the mirror and the daughter's right. The way the legend goes, you know who scratches your eyes out." Beatrice fake gasped.

"Voldemort?" She cried in mock horror, earning glares from both brothers. "Just trying to diffuse the tension."

"It's worth checking into." Sam nodded, ignoring her.

As they left the bathroom, the blonde from downstairs stepped in front of them. "What are you doing up here?"

"We.. we..." Dean looked to Beatrice for help.

"We had to go to the bathroom." She said quickly, looking triumphant but both boys stared at her like she'd gone mad.

"Who are you?"

"Like we said downstairs, we worked with Donna's dad." The girl scowled.

"He was a day trader or something. He worked by himself."

"No, I know, I meant-" Beatrice started, but she was cut off.

"And all those weird questions downstairs, what was that? So you tell me what's going on, or I start screaming." The girl snapped. Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Sam stepped on his foot.

"Alright, alright. We think something happened to Donna's dad."

"Yeah, a stroke."

"That's not the sign of a typical stroke." Beatrice sighed, rolling her eyes.

"We think it might be something else." Sam nodded in agreement with Beatrice.

"Like what?"

"Honestly, we don't know. But we don't want it to happen to anyone else. That's the truth."

"So, if you're gonna scream, go right ahead." Beatrice said sarcastically.

"Who are you, cops?" The girl asked. Again, Beatrice was brushed to one side. She was starting to dislike Donna's friend even more.

"Something like that." Dean nodded, smiling. Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper.

"I'll tell you what, here," he wrote down his phone number, "if you think of anything, you or your friends see anything strange, out of the ordinary.. just give us a call." He handed her the paper, and the trio left the house.

Rain battered the city as Sam, Dean and Beatrice walked into a library. It was dark for the time of day, even with a storm, Beatrice noted as she sat down at a table. "Alright," Dean said, sitting beside her, "say Bloody Mary really is haunting this town. There's gonna be some sort of proof, like a local woman who died nasty." He glanced at Sam, who nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, but a legend this widespread it's hard. I mean, there's like fifty variations of who she actually is. One story says she's a witch, another says she's a mutilated bride. And there's a lot more."

"Alright, so what are we supposed to be looking for?"

"Every version's got some things in common. It's always a woman named Mary, and she always dies right in front of a mirror. So we've gotta search local newspapers, public records as far back as they go. See if we can find a Mary who fits the bill."

"Well, that sounds annoying." Autumn sighed, glancing over at the row of computers. Each one had an 'OUT OF ORDER' sign taped to them, inked in fine calligraphy.

"Agreed." Sam muttered, scanning the shelves for a book. "Let's get to work."

Sam awoke in bed from another nightmare. Beatrice was beside him, scribbling in a notebook and Dean was sat at the table reading a book titled 'legends and lore'. "Why'd you let me sleep?" Sam asked quietly. Beatrice jumped slightly as she saw he was awake.

"Cause I'm an awesome brother," Dean said sarcastically, "so what did you dream about?"

"Lollipops and candy canes." Sam looked at Beatrice, who was biting her bottom lip.

He could see there was something wrong with her, but was hiding it well. "You're having nightmares, too." She looked down, closing her eyes.

"No."

"I'm not stupid. It's your sister, right?" He asked. Beatrice nodded slowly, hot tears springing into her eyes but she rubbed them away fiercely with the back of her hand.

"Mm hm." Sam draped an arm around her shoulders and turned to Dean.

"Did you find anything?" He asked.

"Oh, besides a whole new level of frustration? No. I've looked at everything. A few local women, a Laura and a Catherine committed suicide in front of a mirror and a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave, but uh, no Mary."

"Maybe we just haven't found it yet." Sam muttered, letting Beatrice go. She sat hunched against the headboard, her knees drawn to her chest.

"I've also been searching for strange deaths in the area. You know, eyeball bleeding, that sort of thing. There's nothing. Whatever's happening here, maybe it just ain't Mary." Dean continued, glancing at Beatrice who shrugged, clueless

An uncomfortable silence filled the room, and to Sam's relief his phone started ringing.

"Hello?" He said nothing else, but the expression on his face said it all.

The park grass felt damp with morning dew beneath Autumn as she settled. The girl, Charlie, was sat on the bench, wailing into her hands. Various passers by gave them odd looks, but none chose to comment.

Beatrice was thankful for that. She couldn't be dealing with petty remarks. Not today. She was exhausted, she hadn't slept in two days. "And they found her. On the bathroom floor, and her… Her eyes. They were gone." Charlie was wailing.

"I'm sorry." Sam said gently.

"And she said it. I heard her say it! But it couldn't be because of that. I'm insane, right?"

"No, you're not insane." Dean assured her.

"Oh, god. That makes me feel so much worse."

"Look, Sweetheart. We think something's happening here. Something that can't be explained." Beatrice spoke up, yawning loudly. Running a hand through her messy hair she leant back, propped up by her elbows.

"And we're gonna stop it, but we could use your help." Dean added.

"Alright." Charlie nodded. "What do I need to do?"

Charlie shut the bedroom door, once belonging to her best friend. The window opposite her was open slightly, but she flung it wide open. Balanced on the sill were three people who couldn't be seen from the floor below.

"What'd you tell Jill's mom?" Dean asked as he climbed through the window, shortly followed by Sam who helped Beatrice in.

"Just that I needed some time alone with Jill's pictures and things," she sighed as Sam pulled something from a rucksack and Dean closed the curtains, "I hate lying to her."

"Trust us, this is for the greater good. Hit the lights." Beatrice said, falling back onto the bed. It felt weird sitting there, knowing a dead girl had sat here just under twenty four hours ago. Charlie flicked the light switch into the 'standby' position.

"What are you guys looking for?"

"We'll let you know as soon as we find it." Sam had a digital camera at the ready, which he handed to Dean.

"Hey, night vision." Dean switched the settings for him. "Perfect." The camera was aimed at the elder of the two brothers.

"Do I look like Paris Hilton?" He smirked. Sam playfully rolled his eyes and went over to the wardrobe where a floor length mirror was stationed.

"So, I don't get it," Sam muttered as he continued filming, "I mean.. the first victim didn't summon Mary, and the second one did. How's she choosing her victims?"

"Beats me." Beatrice sighed. Sam closed the wardrobe door. "But what I want to know is why Jill said it in the first place." She glanced at Charlie and raised an eyebrow.

"It was just a joke."

"Yeah, well somebody's gonna say it again. It's just a matter of time." Sam stood in the bathroom, filming around the mirror where Jill died, when he paused.

Something had run beneath the frame that was almost invisible to the naked eye.

"Hey." He called. Beatrice joined him in the bathroom.

"There's a black light in the trunk, right?" She said quietly. Dean nodded. He disappeared, then returned a minute later holding a black light.

"Thanks." She carried the mirror over to the bed and tore off the brown paper wallpapering the back of the glass backing. The light illuminated words she was sure were smeared with blood.

'GARY BRYMAN'

"So, you know who that is?" Sam asked, glancing at Charlie. She shook her head.

"No."

Back in the park, Beatrice settled back onto the patch of grass she had been stationed at just hours before. Dean sat beside Charlie on the bench, almost comforting her, while Sam stood behind reading aloud a report.

"So, Gary Bryman was an eight year old boy. Two years ago, he was killed in a hit and run. The car was described as a black toyota camry. But nobody got the plates or saw the driver."

"Oh my god.." Charlie groaned audibly.

"What?" Beatrice asked.

"Jill drove that car."

"We need to get back to your friend Donna's house."

Beatrice rose from the bench first, standing on her toes and lifting her arms to stretch out. She had a strong desire to help, as she did with everyone, but this case was starting to weigh her down and she couldn't help but wish it could be over.

Donna Shoemaker's lounge had an almost eerie feel to it as the trio and Charlie lingered awkwardly in it. Donna frowned. "Why are you asking me this?" She said quietly, looking scornful.

"Look, we're sorry, but it's important." Beatrice sighed.

"Yeah, Linda's my mom, okay? She overdosed on sleeping pills. It was an accident, and that's it. I think you should leave." She hissed, eyeing Beatrice suspiciously.

"Now, Donna, just listen-" Dean started but the pixie haired girl cut him off.

"Get out of my house!" With an anguished sob she ran upstairs. An uncomfortable silence fell across the group until Charlie spoke.

"Oh my god. You really think her Dad could've killed her Mom?"

"Maybe." Sam shrugged.

"I think I should stick around." She sighed, casting a sideways glance towards the descending staircase.

"Alright, whatever you do, don't-"

"Believe me. I won't say it."

Back at the library, Beatrice was bored. Sam and Dean had been researching Mary this, Mary that for hours and she was growing weary. She wanted to go back to the motel, and sleep. It was three days now, three days and counting and no one seemed to notice how much she was suffering.

"Wait, wait, wait. You're doing a nationwide search?" She heard Sam say.

"Yep. The NCIC, the FBI database. At this point, any Mary who died in front of a mirror is good enough for me." Dean replied, sounding tired.

"But if she's haunting the town, she should have died in the town." Beatrice sighed.

"I'm telling you, nothing local, I've checked. So unless you got a better idea.."

"The way Mary's choosing her victims. It seems there's a pattern." Dean continued.

"I know. I was thinking the same thing."

"With Mr. Shoemaker, and Jill's hit and run."

"Both had secrets where people died."

"Right. I mean, there's a lot of folklore about mirrors, that they reveal all your lies, your secrets, that they're a true reflection of your soul. Which is why it's bad luck to break them."

"Right, right. So maybe if you've got a secret, I mean like a really nasty one where someone died, then Mary sees it, and punishes you for it."

"Whether you're the one who summoned her, or not." Both brother's looked up at the sound of Beatrice's voice.

"Take a look at this." Sam said to her, handing her a crime scene photo. Pictured was a woman, lying in a pool of blood at the base a mirror. On the mirror was a handprint and the word 'TRE' written in Mary's blood. Beatrice grimaced.

"Nice. Looks like the same handprint." She muttered, running her eyes along the old black and white photograph.

"Her name was Mary Worthington. An unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana."

"Well then," Beatrice rose to her feet, "let's go check it out."

"I was on the job for 35 years. Detective for most of that. Now everybody packs it in with a few loose ends, but the Mary Worthington murder. That still gets me." The detective sighed, taking his hat off and laying it on the table.

"What exactly happened?" She asked.

"You kids said you were reporters?"

"We know Mary was nineteen. Lived by herself. We know she won a few local beauty contests, dreamt of getting out of Indiana, being an actress. And we know on the night of March twenty ninth someone broke into her apartment and murdered her, cut out her eyes with a knife." She continued, ignoring his question.

"That's right." The detective nodded.

"See, sir, when we asked you what happened, we want to know what you think happened." Sam said, frowning slightly. The detective turned to a filing cabinet Beatrice hadn't noticed before and pulled out a picture, the same crime scene photo they'd seen.

"Technically," he smiled softly, "I'm not supposed to have a copy of this. Now, see that? T-R-E?" He pointed to the lettering on the mirror. The trio nodded. "I think she was trying to spell out the name of her killer."

"You know who it was?" Sam glanced back the detective before returning his gaze on the picture once more.

"Not for sure. But there was a local man, a surgeon. Trevor Sampson. And I think he cut her up good."

"Now, why would he do something like that?" Autumn looked intrigued.

"Her diary mentioned a man she was seeing. She called him by his initial, T. Well, her last entry, she was gonna tell T's wife about their affair."

"Yeah, but how do you know Sampson killed her?"

"It's hard to say, but the way her eyes were cut out, it was almost professional.

"But you could never prove it?"

"No. No prints, no witnesses. He was meticulous."

"Is he still alive?" The detective let out an extended sigh.

"Nope. If you ask me, Mary spent her last living moments trying to expose this guy's secret. But she never could."

"Where's she buried?"

"She wasn't. She was cremated."

"What about the mirror?" Dean nodded towards the framed glass in the picture, "it's not in some evidence lockup is it?"

"Ah, no. It was returned to Mary's family a long time ago."

"You have the names of her family, by any chance?"

The road ahead seemed long, longer than usual and it stretched on for hours. Beatrice was curled up in the back, snoring softly while Dean drove and Sam spoke on the phone.

"Oh, really? Ah, that's too bad Mr Worthington. I would have paid a lot for that mirror. Okay, well maybe next time. Alright, thanks." He snapped the phone shut. "So that was Mary's brother. The mirror was in the family for years, until he sold it one week ago to a store called Estate Antiques. A store in Toledo."

"So wherever the mirror goes, Mary goes?" Dean asked, casting his eyes from the road for a split second to look at Sam. He nodded.

"Her spirits definitely tied up with it somehow."

"Isn't there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?"

"Yeah there is. Yeah, when someone would die in a house people would cover up the mirrors so the ghost wouldn't get trapped."

"So Mary dies in front of a mirror and it draws in her spirit."

"Yeah but how could she move through like a hundred different mirrors?"

"I don't know. But if the mirror is the source, I say we find it and smash it."

"I don't know. Maybe." The sound of Sam's cell ringing filled the Impala, waking Beatrice.

"You gonna answer that?" She said groggily, sitting up. Sam opened up the flip phone.

"Hello?" A familiar look of worry crossed his face. "Charlie?"

Charlie sat on the motel bed with her head in her hands. She let out a muffled sob every now and then, as Sam and Dean covered all glass surfaces in the room.

"You're gonna stay right on this bed," Beatrice said, her voice a mask of disinterest, "and you're not gonna look at glass, or anything else that has a reflection. Okay? As long as you do that, she cannot hurt you."

Sam sat on the bed beside Charlie, wrapping an arm around her and drawing her into his side. "Hey, hey. It's okay. Hey, you can open up your eyes. Charlie, it's okay. Alright?" She looked up slowly, wiping her eyes.

"But I can't keep that up forever. I'm gonna die, aren't I?"

"No, no. Not anytime soon." Sam said, shooting Beatrice a look. 'Sensitivity.' He mouthed. She rolled her eyes. Dean sat on Charlie's other side while Beatrice lingered by the door.

"Alright Charlie. We need to know what happened."

"We were in the bathroom. Donna said it."

"That's not what we're talking about," Beatrice sighed irritably, ignoring the glares she got from the two brothers, "something happened, didn't it? In your life. A secret. Where someone got hurt. Can you tell us about it?" Every one of her words dripped with mock empathy

"I had a boyfriend. I loved him. But he kind of scared me too, you know? And one night, at his house, we got in this fight. Then I broke up with him, and he got upset, and he said he needed me and he loved me. And he said, 'Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I'm gonna kill myself.' And you know what I said? I said 'go ahead'. And I left. How could I say that? How could I leave him like that? I just... I didn't believe him, you know? I should have."

She put her head back between her knees and let out a disgruntled sob. Silence swarmed into the room like foul locusts and it stayed, and it settled, until Beatrice spoke.

"Well, you're completely screwed."

"Beatrice!" Both brothers yelled.

"What? It's the truth, do you want me to lie? Listen kid, next time you find yourself in a situation, don't tell someone to kill themselves. Sometimes it might just fuck up your life." She said, and left.

The rain thundered down. It was colder than she'd anticipated, and Beatrice was angry. She'd been locked out of the motel, so had been left in the streets. She was beginning to wish she hadn't stormed out like that.

Letting out a dry sob, she slid down the damp motel wall. "Bea?" A voice said gently. Her head snapped up, more than ready to reach for her gun. But seeing the youngest Winchester brother, her expression softened and she managed a small smile.

"Sam.." She looked down again, playing with her sodden hair, "hi."

"Locked out?" Beatrice nodded.

"Yeah.." He crouched down in front of her, placing a gentle hand on her face.

"I get it, Bea. I really do. You're sick, and you're God damned tired of this life. But me and Dean, we're here for you. I swear."

"I'm sorry, Sam."

"I know, Bea. Come on." He stood up and led her to the Impala which was parked two blocks away by a bus stop. Dean looked up as the two arrived and he smiled, rolling down the window.

"Hey, Bea." She nodded in acknowledgement.

"Hi, Dean." She crawled into the back, sitting cross legged. She leaned against the cold window, closing her eyes. Around five minutes of silence passed until Dean spoke up, his voice echoing in the dead quiet of the car.

"You know, her boyfriend killing herself. That's not really Charlie's fault."

"You know as well as I do that spirits don't exactly see shades of grey, Dean. Charlie had a secret, someone died, and that's good enough for Mary." Sam sighed.

"I guess."

"You know, I've been thinking. It might not be enough just to smash that mirror."

"Why, what do you mean?"

"Well, Mary's hard to pin down, right? I mean, she moves from mirror to mirror so who's to say she's not just gonna keep hiding in them forever? Maybe we should try to pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror and then smash it."

"Well, how do you know that's gonna work?"

"I don't. Not for sure."

"Well, who's gonna summon her?"

"I will. She'll come after me."

"You know what, that's it." Dean parked on the side of the curb. "This is about Jessica, isn't it? You think that's your dirty little secret, that you killed her somehow? Sam, this has got to stop, man. I mean, the nightmares and calling out her name in the middle of the night. It's gonna kill you. Now listen to me, it wasn't your fault. If you wanna blame something, blame the thing that killed her. Or hell, why don't you take a swing at me? I mean, I'm the one who dragged you away from her."

"And me." Beatrice said quietly.

"I don't blame you. Either of you."

"Well, you shouldn't blame yourself, because there's nothing you could have done."

"I could've warned her."

"About what? You didn't know that it was gonna happen! And besides, all of this isn't a secret. I mean, we know all about it. It's not gonna work with Mary anyway."

"No, you don't."

"We don't what?"

"You don't know all about it. I haven't told you everything."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, it wouldn't be a secret if I told you, would it?"

"No. I don't like it. It's not gonna happen, forget it."

"Dean, that girl back there is going to die unless we do something about it. And you know what? Who knows how many more people are gonna die after that? Now we're doing this. You've got to let me do this."

"I'm doing it too." Beatrice said firmly. The brothers stared at her.

"What?" Sam said, looking surprised.

"I want to help."

"No. Bea, I don't think you understand how-" Dean started but Beatrice cut him off.

"I don't _understand_? How can you sit there and say that, when really I have a better understanding of this than most people? I might only be eighteen years old Dean but I've done some shit, and it's about time I face up to it."

"Bea-"

"Just shut up! I'm doing this. You're not my father. You can't stop me." With that, she got out of the Impala and stormed towards the door of the antique shop. "Are you coming, or not?" Sam was slightly taken aback. He'd not seen her this mad before. He got out of the car and jogged to stand in front of her, blocking her path.

"You sure you want to do this?" He said gently. She nodded.

"I have to." Dean appeared beside them, biting his bottom lip.

"Sam, you should pick the lock." He said quietly. He knew this was risky. He may be about to lose the two people he cared most about. As Sam picked the lock, Dean pulled Beatrice into a tight hug. She momentarily rested her head against his chest, closing her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Dean. But this is just something we have to do."

"I know. Be careful. Both of you." He glanced at Sam over her shoulder.

He nodded. As the lock clicked open, they pulled apart and split up. "Maybe they've already sold it?" Dean called to them. The sound of police sirens could he heard in the near distance, but they brushed it off.

"I don't think so." Beatrice muttered, coming to a half in front of an old mirror. Pulling the crumpled photo from her pocket she held it up against the mirror.

"That's it." Dean sighed. "You sure about this?" Both nodded. Sam handed Dean the flashlight, and his hand found Beatrice's. She gave it an encouraging squeeze and turned to the mirror.

"Bloody Mary." She said quietly.

"Bloody Mary." Sam looked at her.

"Bloody Mary." They said together.

As Dean watched them, chewing his lip nervously, a light shone into the store.

"I'll go check that out. Stay here, and be careful. Smash anything that moves." He handed Sam the crowbar and left the store. Beatrice could hear his faint voice drifting through the door. "Crap." He muttered. She almost smiled, then remembered why they were there.

A sharp breath came behind them and the two turned to look. Mary flashed into the mirror, causing Beatrice to cry out and smash the mirror before Sam could. Every so often, the spectre would appear in different mirrors, staring at them through dead eyes. Smash. Smash. Smash.

"Come on, come into this one." He muttered. Beatrice froze.

"Sam, look." Their two reflections were staring at them, smiling oddly in a way that Beatrice herself would never, ever smile like. It made her uncomfortable, terrified her even. Beatrice cried out, her hands flying to her throat. Blood leaked from the corner of her eye.

"You did it!" Her reflection screeched in a voice that wasn't her own. "You let your sister die. You gave her the script that killed her!"

"I.,. I didn't mean to. I didn't know." She whispered, staggering backwards and pressing against the wall. "It wasn't my fault!"

"It's your fault. You killed her. You killed Jessica." Sam's reflection hissed.

"Sammy, kill it, please." Beatrice pleaded, her voice choked. "Sam, please!" She screamed, reaching for his hand. It wasn't there. "SAM!"

"You knew that it was wrong. But you let her. You let her summon that demon, and it murdered her! It's all your fault Beatrice. It's all your FAULT!" The reflection had a snarl to its voice, but the sick smile never left its face.

"Sam.. please.." She whispered.

"You never told her the truth. Who you really were. But it's more than that, isn't it? The nightmares you've been having of Jessica dying, screaming, burning. You had them for days before she died. Didn't you?! You were so desperate to ignore them, to believe they were just dreams. How could you ignore them like that?! How could you leave her alone to die?! You dreamt it would happen!"

Sam's reflection howled. A crowbar fell into the mirror from the side, shattering the mirror instantly.. Beatrice coughed, trying to catch her breath as she collapsed beside Sam. Dean crouched next to them, shaking Sam's shoulder hard.

"Sam? Sammy!"

"It's Sam." Sam muttered, his eyes still closed.

"God, are you okay?!" Dean fretted.

"Uh, yeah." Beatrice spoke for both of them.

"Come on." He pulled Beatrice and Sam to their feet, managing to support both Sam's giant frame and Beatrice's tiny one.

"Dean!" Beatrice screamed. The Winchesters turned to see Mary crawling from the mirror frame. Her movements were jerky, almost like she walked on broken bones. She straightened up, and as she did all three fell to the floor, hot blood trickling down their faces.

In a moment of desperation and fear, Dean turned the nearest mirror so it was facing Mary. Beatrice was crying, her tears mingling with the blood and making a gruesome pinkish mixture that ran down her face and onto her neck. Mary tilted her head in confusion, much like a lost Puppy.

"You killed them!" The reflection said in an uncharacteristically deep voice. "All those people! You killed them!" Mary let out a pained, choking noise and stumbled back, her hands gripping her throat as she melted, feet first, into a pile of blood and sludge on the floor. Dean threw down the mirror he'd been clutching and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey guys?" He said quietly.

"Yeah?" They said together. Beatrice wiped the blood from her face.

"This has gotta be like, what? 600 years of bad luck?" Both laughed, and without another word, Beatrice passed out on the floor.

The group was silent. The only sound was the engine humming gently as it worked hard to keep the Impala working down the long stretch of dark road. The car came to a stop outside of the house and Beatrice sighed in a cathartic sort of way. "So this is really over?" Charlie asked slowly.

"Yeah, it's over." Dean nodded.

"Thank you." She beamed as she got out of the car.

"Charlie?" Beatrice called through the open window. "Your boyfriend's death.. You really should try and forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn't have stopped it. Sometimes bad things just happen." Charlie nodded, hesitated, then disappeared into the house. Dean grinned, gently hitting Sam.

"That's good advice." He awoke the engine and drove down the street. "Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Now that this is all over, I want you to tell me what the secret was." Sam paused.

"Look, you're my brother, and I'd die for you. But there are some things I need to keep to myself." He was silent, staring out of the window.

She knew Sam wasn't okay. She could see it when she looked at him, could hear it in his voice when he talked. And now, she knew about the dreams, whatever they were, he truly believed they were predictive of his girlfriend's death and he could have prevented it. 'It's okay, Sammy,' she thought numbly as she fell into a deep, undisturbed sleep, 'I had dreams too.'

For a while, Beatrice wouldn't have to think about the dreams that had haunted her, of faces twisted in agony as they died. She would probably write them off as coincidence. But eventually, they'd come back for her. Witchcraft often does.

"It's okay, It's okay." Officers assured the sobbing girl, crouching in front of her. She pointed to a room across the hall, her hand trembling violently.

"In there..." She choked out, struggling against the ropes binding her to the chair. The S.W.A.T team moved into the room, where a man was struggling to open a set of windows leading to a balcony.

"Freeze! Don't move! Drop the knife, and keep your hands where I can see em'. Drop it! Hold it there!" The man turned. Dean Winchester smirked, cracking his knuckles.

-One week earlier-

The Chevrolet Impala pulled up at a run down gas station. "Alright," Dean yawned, "I figured we'd hit Tucumcari by lunch, then head south, his Bisbee by midnight." Neither of his companions replied. Dean paused.

"Sam wears women's underwear and Beatrice buys him them."

"I've been listening. I'm just busy." Sam muttered to his computer screen..

"Busy doin' what?"

"Reading e-mails." Dean got out of the car and began filling the tank while his brother spoke.

"E-mails from who?"

"From my friends at Stanford." Sam replied to Dean.

"You're kidding? You still keep in touch with your college buddies?"

"Why not?"

"Well, exactly what do you tell em'? You know, about where you've been, what you've been doing?"

"I tell em' I'm on a roadtrip with my big brother and his girlfriend. I tell them I need some time, after Jess." Sam smiled, glancing at Beatrice.

"Oh, so you lie to them?" Dean frowned, getting back in the car.

"No. I just don't tell them everything."

"Yeah, that's called lying. I mean, hey, man, I get it. Telling the truth is far worse."

"So, what am I supposed to do? Just cut everyone out of my life." He glanced at Dean, who shrugged. "You're serious?"

"Look, it sucks. But in a job like this, you can't get too close to people. Period."

"You're kind of anti social, you know that?" Beatrice sighed, sitting up and leaning forward in her seat then turned to Sam with an eyebrow raised in question. "You don't actually think I'm Dean's girlfriend, right?"

"What? Uhh, yeah. I did." He looked a little confused until Beatrice started laughing.

"I can't believe this whole time you thought me and Dean were getting it on."

"Maybe we should." Dean teased, and Sam laughed as he continued to scroll through his emails.

"God.."

"What?" Beatrice asked as the car jolted forward, sending her flying in her seat.

"In this email from this girl Rebecca Warren. One of those friends of mine."

"Is she hot?" Dean asked excitedly. Sam ignored his comment, visibly resisting the urge to punch his big brother.

"I went to school with her and her brother, Zack. She says Zack's been charged with murder. He's been arrested for killing his girlfriend. Rebecca says he didn't do it, but it sounds like the cops have a pretty good case."

"Dude, what kind of people are you hanging with?" Beatrice stared at him, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I know Zack. He's no killer."

"Well, maybe you know Zack as well as he knows you." Dean sighed, waking up the engine.

"They're in St Louis. We're goin'."

"Look, sorry 'bout your buddy, okay? But this does not sound like our kind of problem."

"It is our problem. They're my friends."

"Sam's right, Dean," Beatrice sighed, "if something is going on, and we choose to ignore it..."

"St Louis is four hundred miles behind us, guys." Dean groaned. But as he pulled out of the gas station, he turned left instead of right. Sam smiled triumphantly. For once, he'd gotten his way.

The white painted door swung open. "Oh my god, Sam!" The blonde girl pulled Sam in for a hug. He laughed.

"Well, if it isn't little Becky."

"You know what you can do with that little Becky crap." Rebecca smirked, pulling back from the hug.

"I got your email." Sam smiled sadly.

"I didn't think you'd come here." Her eyes flickered between Dean and Beatrice.

"Dean. Older brother." He extended his hand, and she shook it.

"Beatrice. I'm a friend." Beatrice said politely.

"Hi." Rebecca said back, just as politely.

"We're here to help, whatever we can do." Sam said, sensing some awkward tension.

"Come in." Rebecca stepped aside to let the trio in. Dean shut the door behind him, taking a good look around the hallway.

"Nice place." He commented.

"It's my parents'. I was just crashing here for the long weekend when everything happened. I decided to take the semester off. I'm gonna stay until Zack's free."

"Where are your folks?" Beatrice asked, frowning.

"They live in Paris for half the year, so they're on their way home now for the trial. Do you guys want a beer or something?" Dean grinned at the suggestion.

"Hey-" He started, but Sam cut him off.

"No, thanks. So, tell us what happened."

"Well, um, Zack came home and he found Emily tied to a chair. And she was beaten up and bloody, and she wasn't breathing," Rebecca began to cry, comforted by Sam's arms around her, "so, he called 911, and the police, they showed up, and they arrested him. But the thing is, the only way that Zack could have killed Emily is if he was in two places at once. The police-they have a video. It's from the security tape across the street. And it shows Zack coming home at ten thirty. Now, Emily was killed just after that. But I swear, he was here with me, having a few beers until at least after midnight."

"You know, maybe we could see the crime scene," Sam said gently, releasing her from the hug, "Zack's house."

"We could." Dean nodded.

"What could you do?"

"Well, me, not much. But Dean's a cop, and Beatrice is in training." Beatrice shot him a look. Aside from the standard bullshit they told regular cops, she didn't know a thing about the profession and Sam knew that.

"Detective actually." Dean corrected him, giving him the same icy stare.

"Really?" Rebecca smiled. "Where?"

"Bisbee, Arizona. But we're off duty, now."

"You guys, it's so nice to offer, but I just.. I don't know."

"Bec, look, I know Zack didn't do this. Now, we have to find a way to prove that he's innocent."

"Okay. I'm gonna go get the keys." She disappeared down the hall.

"Oh, yeah, man. You're a real straight shooter with your friends." Dean said sarcastically.

"Look, Zack and Becky need our help."

"I just don't think this is our kind of problem!"

"Two places at once?"

"We've looked into less." Beatrice shrugged. Dean fell silent, deflated, while the other two smiled triumphantly.

The street surrounding Zack's house was abandoned. Every window was covered with curtains, and there wasn't a single car on the move. Beatrice presumed it had something to do with the fact a murder had occurred within the very neighborhood. Rebecca turned to Dean. "You sure this is okay?"

"Yeah. We are officers of the law." He winked at Autumn, who had to suppress a giggle. As they entered, she held back a shudder. Both the walls and furniture were smeared with blood.

"Nice." She grimaced, running her eyes along the decor to distract from the gore. Rebecca lingered on the porch, staring at her feet.

"Bec, you wanna wait outside?" Sam said gently.

"No.. I want to help." She ducked under the police tape and entered the lounge.

"Tell us what the police said."

"Well," she began tearfully, "there's no sign of a break in. They say that Emily let her attacker in. The lawyers, they're already talking about a plea bargain. Oh god.." Rebecca cut off, crying.

"Look, Rebecca, if Zack didn't do this, it means someone else did. Have you any idea who?" Beatrice asked.

"Um, there was something. About a week ago? Somebody broke in here and stole some clothes, Zack's clothes. The police, they don't think it's anything. I mean, we're not that far from downtown. Sometimes people get robbed."

As they left, a large grey dog stood on it's hind legs against the railing, barking as if he'd gone mad at the sight of them. "You know, that used to be the sweetest dog."

"What happened?" Dean asked.

"He just.. changed."

"Do you remember when he changed?"

"I guess around the time of the murder." Dean glanced at her, then walked into the kitchen. Beatrice followed.

"So, the neighbor's dog went psycho right around the time Zack's girlfriend was killed?" She said, though she knew the answer. Dean nodded.

"Animals can have a strong sense of the paranormal."

"Yeah, maybe Fido saw something." She suggested, folding her arms across her chest.

"So, you think this is our kind of problem?"

"No. Probably not, but I think we should look at the security tape. You know, just to make sure?" Dean frowned at her, raising an eyebrow. Just minutes ago she'd been protesting, claiming this was their thing, but now, she wasn't? He brushed away her sudden change of heart and chose to reply.

"Yeah." As they spoke, Sam and Rebecca followed them into the kitchen. They'd clearly had a heart-to-heart, as Rebecca seemed to have been crying even more, be that possible.

"So the tape. The security footage, you think maybe your lawyers can get their hands on it? 'Cause we don't have that kind of jurisdiction."

"I've already got it," Rebecca admitted, "I just didn't wanna say it in front of two cops. I stole it off the lawyer's desk. I just had to see it for myself."

Beatrice couldn't help but laugh. "I like you already, Rebecca. Alright, let's get out of here." The four left, the dog still barking in the background.

"Here he comes." Rebecca bit her bottom lip. The glitching tape played on. As Zack entered the house, Beatrice paused it.

"22:04. That's just after ten. You said time of death was about 10:30." She said suspiciously.

"Our lawyers hired some kind of video expert. He says the tape's authentic. It wasn't tampered with." Sam nodded slowly, pressing play on the control. He wanted to see how this went down.

"Hey, Bec? Can we take those beers now?"

"Oh, sure." Rebecca stood up.

"Hey, maybe some sandwiches too?"

"What do you think this is? Hooters?" She left. Dean smirked at Sam.

"I wish." He glanced at the tape Sam had been studying so vigorously.

"Check this out." He rewound the tape, then replayed it. On one of the frames, Zack was looking directly at the camera. His eyes flashed silver and he grinned wickedly, then returned to normal as he moved on. Sam paused it.

"Well, maybe it's just a camera flare?" The elder suggested, looking sceptical.

"That's not like any camera flare I've ever seen. You know, a lot of cultures believe that a photograph can catch a glimpse of the soul."

"Right."

"Remember that dog, that was freaking out?" Beatrice said suddenly. "Maybe he saw this thing. Maybe this is some kind of dark double of Zack's, something that looks like him but isn't him."

"Like a doppelganger."

"Yeah.. it'd sure explain how he was in two places at once." Sam nodded.

"Alright, so what are we doing here at 5:30 in the morning?" Dean asked as he parked the car and got out, looking around at the street.

"I realized something. The videotape shows the killer going in, but not coming out." Beatrice explained, opening her car door. The St Louis air felt cold around her bare arms and wind nipped at her flesh. She shivered, and regretted not bringing a jacket.

"So, he came out the back door?" Dean glanced at her, leaning on the hood of the Impala.

"Right. So there should be a trail to follow. A trail the police would never pursue."

"Cause they think the killer never left. And, they caught Zack inside. Though, I still don't know what we're doin' here at 5:30 in the morning." Dean grumbled. Sam cast his eyes around the outside of a building, seeing blood smeared on a nearby telephone pole.

"Blood. Somebody came this way." He said quietly.

"Yeah, but the trail ends. I don't seen anything over here." An ambulance drove past, sirens blazing, and they all exchanged glances. Beatrice moved first, chasing after the ambulance with a dark scowl on her face.

"What... happened?" She asked a nearby woman, panting as she struggled to catch hr breath. An asian man was slammed against the hood of a cop car, cuffs securing his hands around his back.

"He tried to kill his wife," the woman sighed, "tied her up and beat her."

"Really?" Beatrice said, trying to sound more sympathetic than interested.

"I used to see him going to work in a morning. He'd wave, say hello. He seemed like a nice guy." Beatrice watched the man being driven away and she frowned. The Winchesters joined her at hr side, panting audibly and they glared at her for making them run.

"Hey. Remember when I said this wasn't our kind of problem?"

"Yeah." Beatrice said, a smile playing on her lips as she joined them back at Zack's house.

"Definitely our kind of problem."

"What'd you find out?" Sam asked. The side of the house was empty as the trio searched.

"Well, I just talked to the patrolman who was first on the scene. Heard this guy, Alex's story. Apparently the dude was driving home from a business trip when his wife was attacked." Dean explained with a low chuckle

"So, he was two places at once?" Beatrice said groggily, having just awoken from a well deserved nap in the back of the Impala.

"Exactly. Then, he sees himself in the house, police think he's a nutjob."

"Two dark doubles attacking loved ones in exactly the same way."

"Could be the same thing doing it too." Dean suggested.

"Shapeshifter?" Beatrice said. "Something that can make itself look like anyone?"

"Every culture in the world has a shapeshifter lore. You know, legends of creatures who can transform themselves into animals or other men."

"Right. Skinwalkers, werewolves…"

"We've got two attacks within blocks of each other. I'm guessin' we've got a shapeshifter prowling the neighborhood."

"Let me ask you, in all this shapeshifter lore, can any of them fly?"

"Not that I know of."

"I picked up a trail here. Someone ran out of the back of this building, and headed off this way, just like your friend's house." Beatrice said.

"Yeah, and just like at Zack's house, the trail suddenly ends. I mean, whatever it is, just disappeared." Sam nodded.

"Well, there's another way to go. Down." Beatrice looked down at her feet.

Sam thought she was been daydreaming again, but then noticed the manhole she was stood on.

"Nice one, Bea." The pair high fived a little childishly. She hesitated, then pushed her fingers under the cover and jumped, ready for her quest to find the shifter.

"I hate sewers." Beatrice whined, an awful smell surrounding her whenever she moved even slightly. Although usually enthusiastic about what she did, (it was the only way she'd avoid going crazy), she did have her complaints. The brothers usually just let her get it out of her system.

"I bet this runs right by Zack's house, too. The shapeshifter could be using the sewer system to get around." Sam looked around, grimacing at the sight of cockroaches nestling on a rusting pipe.

"I think you're right, look at this." Dean bent down and examined a pile of damp skin and blood on the floor. "Ugh."

"That's sick." Autumn said, covering her mouth in an attempt to stop breakfast making a reappearance. "Is this from his victims?" Words muffled by the palm of her hand she took out a pocket knife and picked up sme of the skin on her blade to inspect it.

"You know, I just had a sick thought," Dean mumbled, scrunching his nose up in disgust, "when the shifter changes shape, maybe it… Sheds." He paused, waiting for the grossed-out reactions of his companions.

"That is sick." Sam agreed as Beatrice dropped the bloody pile back onto the tiled flooring. They left the manhole and made their way back to the Impala which was parked a little way away. Dean jerked the trunk open and ran his hands over a whole arsenal of weapons.

"Well, one thing I learned from Dad, is that no matter what kind of shapeshifter it is, there's one sure way to kill it."

"Silver bullet to the heart." Beatrice smirked.

"That's right." As he spoke, Sam's cell began to ring. He picked it up, frowning.

"This is Sam." Beatrice motioned for him to put it on speakerphone, which he did.

"Where are you?" It was Rebecca. Her voice was tense.

"We're near Zack's, we're just checkin' some stuff out."

"Well, look, Sam. Just stop, 'cause I really don't need your help any more."

"What are you talking about?"

"I told the lawyers we went to the crime scene."

"Why would you do that?"

"Well, I told them we were there with a police officer. And they checked it out, and they told me there is no detective Dean Winchester or trainee Beatrice Wells."

"Bec-"

"No, I don't understand why you would lie to me about something like that!"

"We're trying to help."

"Oh, trying to help?! Do you realize that was a sealed crime scene? This could have ruined Zack's case!"

"Bec, I'm sorry, but-"

"No. Goodbye, Sam." The line went dead.

"I hate to say it, but that's exactly what I'm talking about," Dean sighed, "you lie to your friends, because if they knew the real you, they'd be freaked out. It's just.. It'd be easier if.."

"If he was like you." Beatrice frowned, folding her arms.

"Hey, guys, like it or not we are _not_ like other people. But I'll tell you one thing. This whole gig, it ain't without perks." He held up a gun, which Sam took and slipped into the side of his jeans waistband. They walked down the street, all muttering to one another.

Back in the sewer, and Beatrice was complaining again. "It stinks so bad." She moaned.

"I think we're close to it's lair." Dean said, ignoring Beatrice.

"Why do you say that?" Sam glanced at him for a moment, though he was always on alert for even the slightest movement that wasn't one of them.

"Because there's another puke inducing pile, right next to Autumn's face."

"Oh, gross." Beatrice groaned, stepping back. Sam cast his gaze around the tunnel, seeing a pile of clothes discarded carelessly in a corner. "Looks like it's lived here a while." Beatrice muttered.

"Who knows how many murders it's gotten away with." Sam said, then jumped, startled. The asian man from the crime scene was stood behind Dean. "Dean!" He yelled. Dean turned, but was too slow, and got punched in the face. Sam shot at it a few times as it made for an escape, but missed.

"Get the son of a bitch!" Dean yelled, clutching his bloody nose. Beatrice ran first after the shifter, closely followed after Sam and Dean. She paused at the exit to the sewer. As usual, she was too short to climb up.

"Give me a boost?" She said to Sam, who lifted her up just high enough to push the congregated iron away and climb through. A she waited impatiently for them to climb up, she groaned. "It got away."

"Alright. Let's split up."

"Okay. I'll meet you both round the other side."

"Okay." Sam and Beatrice turned left, while Dean went in the opposite direction. After searching for about ten minutes, the two gave up.

"I quit! This thing is long gone by now." She cried. Sam nodded.

"I agree. We'll go find Dean. Hey, Bea?" She looked at him.

"Yeah, Sam?"

"You uh, you doin' okay? With the nightmares, I mean." Beatrice looked uncomfortable at the question but nodded anyway, avoiding his gaze.

"I've been better, but… I'm okay. What about you?"

"I'm okay, too." He smiled encouragingly at her.

At the street corner, it was busier than expected. Life continued as normal, as if people weren't being beaten to death and a shifter wasn't running amok in the streets.

"Hey." Sam turned as Dean's voice filled the air. "Anything?" Beatrice shook her head.

"No. He's gone." She sighed.

"Alright. Let's get back to the car." They paused at the car, Beatrice slipping into the back.

"You think he found another way underground?" Sam said, watching Dean carefully. Beatrice saw his eyebrow raise as though he was suspicious. He nodded.

"Yeah, you got the keys?"

"Hey, didn't Dad face a shapeshifter once in San Antonio?"

"Oh, that was Austin. It turned out not to be a shapeshifter, it was a thought form. A psychic projection. Remember?"

"Oh, right. Here you go." Sam tossed the keys to his brother, who smirked, opening the trunk. He laughed as though he'd never seen the arsenal before. "Don't move!" Dean turned, scowling, to see Sam pointing a gun at his face. "What have you done with him?"

"Sam, what the hell?!" Beatrice cried, staggering out of the back of the car. Dean held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Dude, chill. It's me, alright?"

"No. I don't think so. Where's my brother?"

"Sam!" Beatrice said again.

"You're about to shoot me. Sam, calm down." Dean said in an eerily calm voice.

"You caught those keys with your left. Your shoulder was hurt."

"Yeah, it's better. What do you want me to do, cry?"

"You're not my brother."

"Why don't you pull the trigger, then? Hm? 'Cause you're not sure. Dude, you _know_ me."

"Don't." Sam hissed. Dean paused, then swung his arm into the trunk and pulled out a crowbar which he hit Sam twice with before anyone could react. Sam's legs gave way and he crumpled to the ground,, a soft moan escaping from his lips before he fell still. Beatrice's eyes widened in horror.

"Sam!" She cried. Dean smirked, grabbing theteenager by her hair and Sam by the back of his jacket collar. "Let me go! You son-of-a-" She was cut as he pulled her hair hard, silencing her.

Beatrice whimpered under her breath, much to the delight of the shifter who giggled. They arrived back at the manhole, and with little grace she fell through, hitting her head on one of the pipes. She groaned loudly, trying to crawl but felt the shifter's boot on the back of her head.

He pressed hard on her skull and she writhed in agony, struggling to get away. Something hit her, she wasn't sure where because the pain echoed through her entire body. Beatrice finally passed out, accepting the darkness she had waited for, for so very long now.

When she awoke, Beatrice tried to look around, waiting impatiently for her eyes to adjust to the dark of the cellar. "Sam?" Her voice was hoarse and she ached everywhere. When she tried to move, her every joint screamed in process.

"It's okay, Bea. I'm here. Dean's here too." She felt his hand on her own and realized they were tied back to back to a large wooden post, which was struggling to hold the roof up on its own.

"What happened?"

"Shifter kidnapped us. It's Dean, and it's going to see Rebecca. We're trying to get out." As he spoke, Dean laughed triumphantly.

"I'm out." He announced.

"That's the thing, Dean. He didn't just look like you, he was you. Or he was becoming you." Sam sighed, obviously continuing a discussion they'd been having while Beatrice was unconscious.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, looking curious. He made his way over to Sam and Beatrice, starting to cut them free.

"I don't know, it was like he was downloading your thoughts and memories."

"You mean, like the vulcan mind meld?"

"Yeah, something like that. I mean, maybe that's why he doesn't just kill us."

"Maybe he needs to keep us alive. Physic connection."

"Yeah, come on, we gotta go. He's probably at Rebecca's already." Sam stood and started working at cutting Beatrice's binds. He finished, and Beatrice stood, rubbing her scowled, sniffling as she tried to repress a sob of frustration. Sam noticed and wrapped his arms around her, letting her bury her face in his chest. It was then she realized with a pang of terror.

She was in love with Sam Winchester.

"Come on. We gotta find a phone, call the police." Sam said desperately as the three walked down the abandoned street.

"Woah, woah. You're gonna put an APB on me!" Dean looked horrified, his eyes widening dramatically.

"This way!" Beatrice pointed, taking off running down the street.

She skidded, coming to a stop in front of a TV store. Her eyes flickered along the multiple panels of screens plastering the front of the shop. "An anonymous tip led police to a home in Central west end, where S.W.A.T team discovered a local woman bound and gagged. Her attacker, a white male, approximately twenty-four to thirty years of age was discovered hiding in her home." The news reporter said in a dull monotone. A rough sketch of Dean flashed on the screen.

"Man! That's not even a good picture!" He complained. Sam scowled.

"It's good enough." He began walking, followed by Dean and Beatrice.

"Man!" Dean said again.

"Come on," Sam paused, leading them down an alley, "they said attempted murder, at least we know-"

"I didn't kill her."

"We'll check with Rebecca in the morning, make sure she's alright."

"Alright. But first, I wanna find that handsome devil and kick the holy crap out of him." The paused in the middle of the alley. Beatrice shot Dean a look.

"We have no weapons. No silver bullets." She sighed.

"Bea, the guy's walkin' around with my face, okay, it's a little personal. I wanna find him."

"Okay." Beatrice held up her hands in surrender.

"Where do we look?" Sam added, glancing between Dean and Beatrice

.

"Well, we could start with the sewers."

"We have no weapons. He stole our guns, so we need more." Beatrice said. "The car?"

"I'm betting he drove over to Rebecca's." Dean grimaced at the thought of his car being tainted by the shifter driving it.

"The news said he fled on foot. I bet it's still parked there."

"The thought of him driving my car..." Dean shuddered.

"Alright, come on." Sam patted Dean's shoulder and began walking again.

"It's killin' me!"

"Let it go." As they arrived at Rebecca's house, Dean's eyes lit up at the sight of the Impala.

"Oh, there she is! Finally, something went right tonight." A police car pulled up beside Dean's, sirens blaring as it came to a halt. "Oh crap." They turned, ready to run, but another one pulled up just behind them, blocking their path directly.

"This way!" He rushed to a fence, ready to climb.

"You go." Sam said, glancing at Beatrice, who smirked and nodded.

"We'll hold em' off." She finished.

"What are you talking about?! They'll catch you!" Dean protested, looking horrified.

"Look, they can't hold us. Just go, keep out of sight. Meet us at Rebecca's." Dean nodded, beginning to climb.

"Dean?" Beatrice said. Dean glanced at her. "Stay out of the sewers alone." Choosing not to reply, the elder brother hopped over the fence. "I mean it!"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Don't move! Keep your hands where I can see em'!" The officer yelled, aiming a gun at Sam, then training it on Beatrice. The young girl smirked, raising her hands.

Rebecca moved over to Sam and Beatrice. "So, say this shapeshifter is real. By the way, you know you're crazy? How do you stop it?" She replaced Sam's empty beer bottle with a fresh one. For once, Beatrice was silent. Something didn't seem right.

"Thanks." Sam sighed. "Silver bullet to the heart." Rebecca laughed.

"You _are_ crazy. Both of you." Without warning, she hit Sam over the head with the empty bottle. He slumped, most of his large frame landing on Beatrice, who groaned loudly.

"You have _got_ to be joking me." She felt something collide with the back of her head, then everything went black.

The shifter smiled as it finished tying Sam's hands and feet. "What are you going to do to us?" He asked carefully, glancing at Beatrice who was slumped awkwardly, tied up in a corner.

"Oh, _I'm_ not gonna do anything. Dean will, though."

"They'll never catch him."

"Doesn't matter. Murder in the first, of his own brother? He'll be hunted for the rest of his life." It picked up a sharp knife and examined it, before dropping it. It clattered to the ground. "She's pretty, isn't she?" It nodded at Beatrice. "I wonder how pretty she'll look, bloody and broken on the floor?" The shifter smiled playfully as Sam growled.

"Don't you touch her." He yelled, struggling against the ropes. It smiled, tracing the blade of the knife around Beatrice's ashen face.

"I'm going to kill her first, I think. Make you watch."

"No!" Sam cried. "Don't touch her!" It laughed, dropping her back to the floor.

"I won't. Not yet, anyway." It grabbed Sam by the collar and dragged him into the living room, ignoring his threats, mingled in with desperate pleas for Beatrice's safety.

It threw him to the ground, watching as he struggled, helpless. "I must say, I will be sorry to lose this skin. Your brother's got a lot of good qualities. You should appreciate him more than you do."

The shifter poured itself a drink, and took a long sip. "Cheers." It picked up the knife, raising it high above its head but changed its mind and stabbed it into the corner of the pool table instead.

It was the perfect moment and while the creature was distracted, Sam lifted his legs and kicked it hard, knocking it to the ground. He jumped up before the shifter could and cut the ropes on the knife. He was free within seconds. His next instinct was to help Beatrice. He rushed to the young girl's side, gently tapping the side of her face. "Sammy?" She whispered.

"It's okay. I'm here. I need you to hide, okay?"

"What's going- Sam, look out!" She cried weakly. The shifter pulled Sam away from Beatrice and held the knife high above his chest.

Sam kicked out, jumping to his feet, but it grabbed his arm and twisted it back. He cried out in pain. Beatrice noticed the knife on the floor and managed to fray her ropes enough to pull her wrists apart. It pinned Sam to the floor, it's hands flexing around his throat. "Sam!" She grabbed one of the fallen shards of glass and smashed it over the shifter's head.

"Kitty has claws!" It laughed gleefully and released Sam from its icy grip, grabbing Beatrice and pinning her to the sofa. "You'd make a nice throw rug."

"Hey!" A voice yelled. Beatrice's head snapped up, and she laughed in relief.

"Dean!" Dean dragged the shifter away from Beatrice and shot it twice in the heart. It fell back on the sofa, dead. He saw it was wearing his necklace and pulled it away, slipping it into his pocket. He nodded knowingly at Beatrice, who smiled weakly.

"Sam." Rebecca ran in and cradled Sam close to her. Beatrice slumped back against the wall, breathless. Finally. It was over.

"So, this is what you guys do? You, your brother and your friend? You hunt down these kind of things?" Rebecca smiled, folding her arms as Beatrice climbed into the back of the Impala.

"Yeah, pretty much." Sam smiled. Dean got into the front of the car, smiling fondly at Beatrice who practically lit up back

.

"I can't believe it. I mean, I saw it with my own eyes. And I mean, does everyone at school, nobody knows you do this?"

"No."

"Did Jessica know?" Sam smiled slightly, looking thoughtful.

"No, she didn't."

"Must be lonely."

"Oh, no. No, it's not so bad," he glanced at Beatrice and Dean, who were attempting to harmonize a Metallica song, "anyway, what can I do? It's my family." Rebecca nodded, and smiled.

"Well, you know. Zack and me, and everybody at school, we really miss you." Rebecca hugged Sam close to her.

"Yeah, me too." They pulled away from one another and a comfortable silence settled among them both.

"Well... Will you call sometime?"

"It might not be for a little while." Rebecca nodded and waved goodbye to Dean and Beatrice. She turned, and retreated back into the house. Sam walked over to the car.

"So, what about your friend, Zack?" Dean asked curiously.

"Cops are blaming this Dean Winchester guy for Emily's murder. They found the murder weapon in the guy's lair, Zack's clothes stained with her blood. Now they're thinking maybe the surveillance tape was tampered with. Yeah, Becca says Zack'll be released soon." Sam grinned and climbed in shotgun. "What about Bea? She okay?" He added quietly, glancing back at the girl in the hopes she wouldn't hear him. Dean nodded.

"She's better. It really shook her up, I mean, she's been threatened before, but never like that.. We've always been there to protect her."

"I can hear you, you know." She snapped. "I don't need protecting, dumbass. I got myself out, didn't I?" She challenged them and Dean laughed.

"You know we love you, right?"

"Yeah, I know. And I love you, too."

"I'm sorry, man." Dean said as they drove.

"About what?" Sam frowned.

"I really wish things could be different, you know? I wish you could just be.. Joe College."

"No, that's okay. You know, the truth is, even at Stanford, deep down, I never really fit in."

"Well, that's 'cause you're a freak."

"Yeah, thanks."

"Well, I'm a freak too. So's Bea. We're right there with you, all the way." Sam laughed.

"Yeah, I know you are."

"You know, I gotta say. I'm sorry I'm gonna miss it."

"Miss what?"

"How many chances am I gonna have to see my own funeral?" Sam smiled to himself. They turned the corner, finally out of St Louis. Sam was happy. This had been a tough case, but here he was. Alive, and with his two favourite people.

What could ever go wrong?

Beatrice awoke from her light slumber to hear Sam talking on his phone. "No, Dad was in California last we heard from him. We just thought... he comes to you for 'munitions... maybe you've seen him in the last few weeks. Just call use if you hear anything. Thanks." Sam shut off the phone, sighing. Dean glanced at him.

"Caleb hasn't heard from him?"

"Nope. And neither has Jefferson, or Pastor Jim. What about the journal? Anything leads in there?"

"No. Same as last time I looked. Nothing I can make out.. I love the guy, but I swear, he writes like friggin' yoda."

"Morning." Beatrice grinned, sitting up in bed. Sam jumped, startled, then relaxed.

"God, Bea. You scared the crap out of me."

"Sorry." She settled down again, listening to the remainder of the conversation.

"You know, maybe we should call the feds, file a missing person's report." Sam suggested, glancing at his brother.

"We've talking about this. Dad'd be mad if we put the feds on his tail."

"I don't care anymore." A phone rang. More specifically, Dean's phone. He crossed the room to find it. "After all that happened back in Kansas, I mean, he should've been so. You said so yourself. You tried to call him, and... Nothing." Dean scowled at his younger brother.

"I know! Where the hell is my cellphone?" He rummaged through a duffel bag and emerged victorious. His prize? A flip phone.

"You know, he could be dead for all we know." Beatrice said quietly, earning a glare from Dean. He didn't want to hear it but she knew it was true.

"Don't say that! He's not dead, he's... He's..."

"He's what? He's hiding? He's _busy_?" Dean ignored her, opening the phone.

"Huh. I don't believe it."

"What?" Autumn frowned, shifting over to see the screen.

"It's uh, it's a text message. Coordinates." He said triumphantly, waving the phone in her face.

"Oh, cut it out." She slapped his hand, moving backwards away from me.

"You think Dad was texting us?" Sam said quietly as Dean typed away on his laptop.

"He's given us coordinates before."

"The man can barely work a toaster, Dean."

"Sam, it's good news! It means he's okay, or alive, at least."

"Well, was there a number or caller ID?"

"Nah, it said unknown."

"Well, where do the coordinates point?" Beatrice asked, looking bored.

"That's the interesting part. Rockford, Illinois."

"Okay, and that's interesting how..?" She continued.

"I checked the local Rockford paper. Take a look at this." He handed her a copy of their local newspaper which she scanned quickly.

Sam sat beside her, eager to see. "This cop, Walter Kelly, comes back from his shift, shoots his wife then puts the gun in his mouth. Blows his brains out. And earlier that night, Kelly and his partner responded to a call at the Roosevelt asylum." He looked at them, expecting some sort of reaction. Beatrice was silent, feeling very uncomfortable.

"Okay, I'm not following. What has this have to do with us?"

"Dad earmarked the very same asylum in the journal. Let's see.." He leafed through the journal before handing it to Sam.

"Here. Seven unconfirmed sightings, two deaths. Till last week, at least. I think that's where he wants us to go."

"This is a job.. Dad wants us to work a job."

"Well, maybe we'll meet up with him. Maybe he's there!" Sam, and even Beatrice, knew Dean was getting excited for nothing.

"Maybe he's not. I mean, he could be sending us there, by ourselves, to hunt this thing."

"Who cares?! If he wants us there, that's good enough for me."

"This doesn't strike you as weird? The texting? The coordinates?"

"Sam! Dad's telling us to go somewhere. We're going." It was then the two noticed Beatrice's silence. "Bea? you okay?" Dean asked gently.

"I can't go," she said in an eerie monotone, "not to an asylum."

"Hey, it's okay," Sam soothed her, wrapping his arms around her, "why not?"

"After Felicity died, I was sent to an asylum for three months. They thought I was crazy, because I told the police it was demons. It was awful, Sam. I nearly got _murdered_. Please don't make me go." She begged, "I'll do anything." Sam looked at Dean in alarm.

"What do we do?" He mouthed. Dean sighed.

"I'll handle this." He mouthed back. He took Beatrice in his arms and pulled her onto his lap, rocking her back and forth. She didn't react for a moment but then put a head on his shoulder. He felt terrible. Although he didn't even know her when it happened, he wished he'd known about that.

"Bea... Nothing's going to happen. We won't let it." She looked up at him.

"Please, Dean." She whispered.

"Can you be brave and do this? For us?" She nodded slowly.

"I can try."

"Thanks, Bea. Anytime you feel scared, or like you want to opt out, you can wait in the Impala or at the motel, okay?"

"Okay."

"You're Daniel Gunderson." Dean walked up the cop, beaming. His voice was barely audible over the dull hum of bar chatter. "You're a cop, right?"

"Yeah." The cop frowned.

"Huh. I'm um, Nigel Tufnel, The Chicago Tribune. Mind if I ask you a couple of questions about your partner?"

"Yeah, I do. I'm just trying to have a beer, here."

"That's okay, I swear it won't take that long. I just want to get the story in your words."

"A week ago , my partner was sitting in that chair and now he's dead. You 'gonna ambush me _here_?" He demanded.

"Sorry, but I need to know what happened." As he spoke, Sam and Beatrice came up behind him. Sam pushed him roughly, while Beatrice shook her head scornfully.

"Hey, buddy, why don't you leave the poor guy alone?!" Sam yelled.

"The man's an officer," Beatrice continued, "why don't you show a little respect?" Dean paused, staring, then stormed off.

"You didn't have to do that." The officer said, but he was visibly pleased.

"Yeah, 'course we did. That guy's a serious jerk. Let me buy you a beer, huh?" Sam glanced at the barman. "Three?"

"Thanks." The cop smiled warmly at the two.

Around half an hour later, Sam walked out of the bar, Beatrice not far behind. Dean scowled at them both, leaning against the Impala. "Shoved me kinda hard in there, buddy boy. I could say the same to you." He glanced at Sam, then Beatrice.

"I had to sell it, didn't I?" Sam chuckled.

"It's method acting." Beatrice smirked, joining him against the hood.

"Huh?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Never mind."

"What'd you find out from Gunderson?"

"So, Walter Kelly was a good cop. Head of the class, even keeled. He had a bright future ahead of him." Sam replied, getting in shotgun, but leaving the door open.

"What about at home?"

"He and his wife had a few fights, like everybody, but he was mostly smooth sailing. They were even talking about having kids." Beatrice told him.

"Alright, so either Kelly had some deep-seated crazy waiting to bust out, or something else did it to him." Dean mused.

"Right."

"What'd Gunderson tell you about this asylum?"

"A lot." Beatrice bit her bottom lip, looking nervous.

"Bea, you sure you're okay? You're a little pale." Sam said.

"I'm fine." She said, though her voice was shaking. Sam nodded, suspicious of her, but decided not to press it. After all, it wasn't really his business.

The grey-bricked asylum loomed over the street as the trio advanced upon it. Ivy crawled up the side of wall and pieces of brick broke away and drifted to their feet, giving it an even worse feeling. Sam glanced at Beatrice. "You sure you want to do this? You don't have to." He said softly.

"I'm sure." Sam lifted her, balancing her on his shoulder until she could climb over the chain-link fence. The brothers were soon to follow.

"So, apparently the cops chased the kids here, into the south wing." Sam pointed to a sign above one of the doors.

"South wing, huh? Wait a second." Dean flipped through John's journal. "1972. Three kids broke into the south wing, only one survived. Way he tells it, one of his friends went nuts and started lighting up the place."

"So whatever's going on, the south wing is the heart of it."

"But if the kids are spelunking the asylum, why aren't there a ton more deaths?" Beatrice asked. She was a sickly grey colour, and trembling.

Dean thought she was holding it together surprisingly well given the circumstance, but was admittedly beginning to regret convincing her to join them and wished he'd let her stay at the motel. Sam looked around and spotted a broken chain, that may have been holding the two large doors together.

"Looks like the doors are usually chained. Could've been chained up for years."

"Yeah, to keep people out," Dean grinned, "or to keep something in." Beatrice let out a whimper as he said that, and he instantly felt bad. "Sorry, Bea." Sam shot him a glare, placing an arm around Beatrice as he pushed one of the doors open. She slipped her hand into Sam's as they walked down the hallway. Dean smirked.

"Let me know if you see any dead people, Hayley Joel."

"Dude, enough." Sam sighed. He was tired of putting up with Dean's stupid jokes.

"I'm serious. You gotta be careful, alright? Ghosts are attracted to that whole ESP thing you got goin' on."

"I told you. It's not ESP! I just have strange vibes sometimes. Weird dreams."

"Yeah, whatever. Don't ask, don't tell."

"You get any reading on that thing, or not?" Sam sighed, visibly irritated.

"Of course, it doesn't mean no one's home."

"Spirits can't appear during certain hours of the day." Beatrice said suddenly. Dean wasn't expecting her to speak, and her scratchy-from-fear voice made him jump. "Sorry." She added quietly, looking down.

"Yeah, the freaks come out at night." He agreed, giving her an encouraging smile.

"Yeah.."

"Hey, Sam? Who do you think is the hotter psychic? Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love Hewitt, or you?" Sam growled, pushing Dean, who laughed. They entered another room, filled with all sorts of weird machines and contraptions.

Dean whistled. "Man. Electro-shock. Lobotomies. They did some twisted stuff to these people. Kinda like my man Jack, in Cuckoo's nest." He smirked at Sam, who ignored him.

"So, what do you think? Ghosts possessing people?" Beatrice suggested, lingering in the doorway. She looked at the equipment like it was familiar to her.

"Maybe. Or, maybe it's more like Amityville, or the Smurl Hunting."

"Spirits driving them insane," Dean grinned, "kinda' like my man Jack, in the Shining."

"Dean..." Sam sighed, glancing at his brother, "when are we going to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"About the fact Dad's not here."

"Oh, I see.. How 'bout.. never?"

"I'm being serious, man. He sent us here-"

"So am I, Sam. Look, he sent us here, he obviously wants us here. We'll pick up the search later." Dean shrugged.

"It doesn't matter what he wants." When Sam spoke, Beatrice could detect the spite in his voice, which was a dislike for his father, she thought.

"See. That attitude, right there? That is why I always get the extra cookie."

"Dad could be in trouble, and we should be looking for him. We deserve some answers, Dean. I mean, this is our family we're talking about."

"I understand that, Sam, but he's given us an order."

"So, what? We always 'gotta follow Dad's orders?"

"Of course we do." Dean said, signalling the conversation was over, much to everyone else's annoyance. Sam sighed, staring at Dean in frustration. The elder turned his head. He looked around cautiously, before his gaze landed on a rusted sign hung on the wall.

"Sanford Ellicott. You know what we gotta do? We gotta find out more about the South Wing. See if something happened here." Dean walked away, leaving Sam and Beatrice alone in the room. She shuddered and ran after Dean, Sam soon to follow.

Dean leaned against the glass window next to the door of the psychiatrist's building. Beatrice sat cross legged on the floor, singing softly to herself as she doodled in a notebook. After what seemed like hours later, Sam came out looking triumphant. "Dude! You were in there forever. What the hell were you talking about?"

Dean said. Beatrice scrambled to her feet and jogged to catch up with them.

"Just the hospital, you know." Sam smiled.

"And..?"

"And the South Wing? It's were they housed the really hard cases. Psychotics, the criminally insane." He explained.

"Sounds cozy." Beatrice chuckled.

"Yeah, and one night, in '64, they rioted. Attacked staff. Attacked each other."

"So the patients, took over the asylum?"

"Apparently."

"Any deaths?"

"Some patients, some staff. I guess it was pretty gory. Some of the bodies were never even recovered, including our chief of staff, Ellicott."

"Whaddya mean, never recovered?"

"Cops scoured every inch of the place, but I guess the patients must have stuffed the bodies somewhere hidden."

"That's grim."

"Yeah. So, they transferred all the remaining patients and closed the hospital down."

"So, to sum it up, we've got a bunch of violent deaths and a bunch of uncovered bodies."

"And a bunch of angry spirits."

"Good times. Let's check out the hospital tonight."

Back at the entrance, Sam pushed open the door, Dean beside him and Beatrice lingering at the back. Sam gripped a video camera, while Beatrice manned the flashlight and Dean gripped the EMF. "Getting readings?" Beatrice asked Dean nervously.

"Yeah, big time."

"This place is orbing like crazy." Sam said quietly, staring at the screen of the camera.

"Probably multiple spirits out and about."

"And if these uncovered bodies are causing the haunting..."

"We gotta find 'em and burn 'em. Just be careful, though. The only thing that makes me more nervous than an angry spirit, is the angry spirit of a psycho killer." Dean laughed.

"Sam?" She said quietly.

"What is it?"

"I'm uh... I'm scared." She admitted, looking at the floor.

"Hey, it's okay to be scared. We're here with you, right?" He smiled encouragingly at her, holding the camera up. When he did, both of them cried out, for a woman with white hair and an empty eye socket was stood in front of them, reaching out for them. "Dean?" Sam called. No reply.

"DEAN!" Beatrice screamed, backing up into the wall. Dean ran in, and she looked urgently at him with wide, frightened eyes. "Shotgun!"

"Guys, get down!" Sam threw himself on the ground, pulling Beatrice down with him.

Dean shot at the woman, and she disappeared with a shriek. Beatrice looked up, breathless.

"That was.. weird." She muttered.

"Yeah, you're telling me." Dean said, helping them both up.

"No, Dean, I mean it was weird she didn't try to attack us."

"Looked pretty aggro from where I was standing."

"She didn't hurt us," Sam agreed, "she didn't even try! So if she didn't want to hurt us, what _did_ she want?" A noise came from the room beside them, the steel door vibrating slightly as the noise passed. Beatrice slid behind Sam, shaking slightly.

"I'm here." He soothed her. On the count of three, Dean pressed his body against the door to get it open, ready to unleash the horrors hidden inside.

"A girl?! Really?!" Beatrice yelled, catching a glimpse of the teenager who looked to be a year or so younger than her. The girl stared at them, terrified.

"It's alright, we're not going to hurt you. It's okay. What's your name?" Sam said.

"Katherine. Kat." The girl whispered, her eyes wide.

"Okay. I'm Dean, this is Sam, and this is Bea."

"What are you doing here?" Sam said, asking the question on everyone's minds. The girl shrugged, avoiding their gaze. Her expression was sheepish.

"Um, my boyfriend, Gavin."

"Is he here?" Beatrice frowned.

"Somewhere. He thought it'd be fun, try and see some ghosts. I thought it was all just.. you know. Pretend. I've seen things. I heard Gavin scream, and.." She trailed off, shaking her head.

"Alright. Kat, come on. Sam and Bea are going to get you out of here, and then we're going to find your boyfriend." Dean assured her, but she shook her head stubbornly.

"No! No. I'm not going to leave Gavin. I'm coming with you."

"It's no joke around here, okay? It's dangerous." Beatrice said to Kat.

"That's why I gotta find him." Kat replied.

"Alright. I guess we're going to split up, then. Let's go." Dean said as he helped Kat to her feet. "You and Bea tackle that way, Kat and I will go this way." Dean said to Sam, and the two walked off. Beatrice glanced at Sam.

"Guess it's just us, then." He nodded.

"I guess it is." Sam smiled, leading her down the corridor. "Gavin... Gavin?" He called, shining his flashlight around the hallway. Nothing. Beatrice paused.

"Sam, in here!" She kicked the door open, to see a young boy, presumably Gavin, unconscious on the floor. Sam crouched beside him.

"Nice work, Bea." He smiled, then gently shook the boy's shoulder. He awoke, and at the sight of two strangers began to panic. "Hey, Gavin. It's okay. We're here to help."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Sam, and this is Bea. We, uh, found your girlfriend."

"Kat?" He sat up. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah. She's worried about you. Are you okay?" Beatrice frowned, helping Gavin stand.

"I was running. I think I fell."

"You were running from what?" A look of curiosity crossed Sam's face.

"There was.. There was this girl. Her face. It was all messed up."

"Okay, listen. Did this girl.. did she try and hurt you?"

"What? No, she uh..."

"She what?"

"She kissed me."

"Uh... um... But she didn't try to hurt you, physically?"

"Dude! She kissed me, I'm scarred for life!"

"Well, trust me. It could have been worse. Now, do you remember anything else?"

"She uh.. Actually, she tried to whisper something in my ear.

"What?"

"I don't know! I ran like hell." Beatrice's head snapped up as screaming echoed through the corridors, and she raised a hand, silencing the two boys. She frowned in concentration, and then her face returned to it's usual neutral expression.

"This way." She pointed down the corridor and ran, to find Dean banging on one of the doors.

"What's going on?" She yelled, struggling to be heard over the noise.

"She's inside with one of 'em!" Dean said, concentrating on getting the door open.

"Help me!" She heard Kat scream.

"Kat!" Gavin howled.

"Get me 'outta here!"

"Kat, it's not going to hurt you," Sam promised her, "listen to me. You've got to face it. You've got to calm down."

"She gotta what?" Dean yelled, astonished.

"I have to _what_?" Kat screamed, just as shocked.

"These spirits, they're not trying to hurt us. They're trying to communicate. You gotta face it. You gotta listen to it!"

"You face it!"

"No! It's the only way to get out of there."

"No!"

"Look at it. C'mon, you can do it." It fell silent, broken only by Gavin's anxious voice.

"Kat?"

"Man, I hope you're right about this." Dean muttered, looking unconvinced.

"Yeah, me too." They stood outside the door in a tense silence. In what seemed like minutes later but in reality was only a matter of seconds, the lock clicked and Kat was stood there.

"Oh, Kat.." Gavin said gently, tackling her in a hug. Sam went into the room, then emerged again, shaking his head to signify it was empty.

"One thirty seven." Kat murmured suddenly, taking the group by surprise.

"Sorry?" Beatrice stared at her.

"It whispered in my ear. One three seven."

"Room number!" Sam and Dean said in synch, grinning.

"Alright, so if these spirits aren't trying to hurt anyone.." Beatrice glanced at the brothers.

"Then what are they trying to do?" Dean took a good luck around as if the answers would be scrawled on the walls.

"Maybe that's what they've been trying to tell us." Sam suggested.

"I guess we'll find out."

"Alright."

"So, now, are you guys ready to leave this place?" Dean asked the young couple, who nodded.

"That's an understatement." Kat sighed.

"Okay." He turned to Sam and Beatrice. "You get them out of here. I'm going to find room one three seven."

Gun clenched tightly in her hands, Beatrice led Sam, Kat and Gavin down the corridors. "So, how do you guys know about all this ghost stuff?" Kat asked, breaking the awkward silence that had settled amongst the group.

"It's kinda out job." Sam laughed slightly.

"Why would anyone want a job like that?"

"I had a crappy guidance counselor."

"And Dean? He's your boss?" Beatrice struggled to stifle a laugh.

"Oh my god, _no_. Dean's his brother, and he's my best friend." Sam pushed on the exit door, but to his surprise it was locked. Beatrice tried another exit, but again, locked.

"Alright. I think we have a small problem." Sam announced.

"Then break it down!" Gavin yelled, visibly terrified.

"I don't think that's going to work."

"Then a window."

"They're barred." Beatrice pointed out, growing increasingly impatient. The thought of being locked in an asylum, her worst nightmare, terrified her.

"Then how are we supposed to get out?!" Gavin cried.

"That's the point. We're not. There's something in here, it doesn't want us to leave."

"Those patients.."

"No. Something else." He tried every window, every door, but all were locked. "Alright," he sighed, "I've looked everywhere. There's no way out."

"So what the hell are we going to do?!" Gavin screamed. Sam noted it was always him who freaked out, compared to Kat who was generally cool and collected.

"Well, for starters, we're not going to panic."

"Why the hell not?!" Before Beatrice could yell at Gavin, Sam's phone rang, silencing her.

"Hey." He said, putting it on speakerphone.

"Sam, it's me. I can see it. It's coming after me." Dean cried on the other end.

"Where are you?"

"In the basement. Hurry up!"

"I'm on my way." Sam hung up and glanced at Beatrice. "If I leave you with these two, you think you'll be okay?" He asked gently. She nodded slowly. "Alright. If I'm not back in ten minutes, get yourself out, not matter what."

Around fifteen minutes later, Beatrice jumped to her feet. "I'm sick of waiting! I'm going after him." She said. The couple stared at her.

"But Sam said-" Gavin started, but she cut him off.

"I heard what he said, but I'm not about to let him die! Alright, can either of you handle a shotgun?" She asked with an eyebrow raised.

"What? No!" Gavin cried, but Kat nodded.

"I can. My dad took me skeet shooting a couple of times."

"Alright, here. It's loaded with rock salt. It may not kill a spirit, but it will repel it, so if you see anything, shoot."

"Okay."

"Right. Good luck." She saluted goodbye and set off down the corridor, confidence within her heart. She had every intention of finding Sam and Dean, and nothing was about to stop her.

"Sam?" Beatrice stormed through the corridors, gun in one hand and flashlight in the other. "Dean?" Nothing. "Sam!" She ran forward, seeing Sam stood for his back to her. "Sam! I was so worried about- Are you.. okay?" He turned to face her, smiling slightly.

"Never better." Sam took a step towards her and slammed her into a wall, his lips ghosting over hers and he pressed himself against her, kissing her.

"Woah, okay." As Dean entered the room, Beatrice automatically pulled back from the kiss. "Uh... Man, answer me when I'm calling you? You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You know it wasn't me who called your cell, right?"

"Yeah, I know. I think something lured me down here."

"I think I know who. Dr Ellicott. That's what the spirits have been trying to tell us. You haven't seen him, have you?"

"No. How do you know it was him?"

"Because I found his log book. Apparently he was experimenting on his patients, awful stuff. Makes lobotomies look like a coupla' aspirin." He said, then paused. "Uh... Sam? Are you gonna let her go?" Sam looked down at Beatrice, his grip so tight on her arms it would bruise, and released her.

"But it was the patients who rioted."

"Yeah, they were rioting against Dr Ellicott. Dr Feelgood was working on like, some sort of extreme rage therapy. He thought if he could get his patients to vent their anger, they'd be cured of it. Instead, it only made them worse and worse, and angrier and angrier. So I'm thinking, what if the spirit is doing the same thing? To the cop, to the kids in the seventies, making them so angry they become homicidal. Come on, we've got to find his bones and torch 'em."

"How?" Beatrice frowned, stepping away from Sam. "The police never found his body."

"The log book said he had some sort of hidden procedure room down here somewhere, where he'd work on his patients. So, if I was a patient I'd drag his ass down here. Do a little work on it myself."

"I don't know, it sounds kinda..."

"Crazy?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, exactly." Dean opened another door, then nodded to Sam and Beatrice, giving them the signal to show it was okay to follow. Both entered, and Beatrice had to swallow down vomit. It brought back memories she'd rather forget. "Bea, you okay?" Dean asked. She nodded.

"Yeah. I uh.. Just feel a little ill."

"I told you. I looked everywhere! I didn't find a hidden room." Sam was saying.

"Well, that's why they call it hidden. You hear that?"

"What?" Sam asked. Dean crouched on his hands and knees, looking interested.

"There's a door. Here."

"Dean." Sam said in a dangerously low tone. Dean looked up, his eyes widening as he realized his brother was aiming a gun at his head. "Step back from the door."

"Sam, put the gun down." Dean said gently.

"Is that an order?"

"Nah, it's more like a friendly request."

"Because I'm getting pretty sick of taking your orders."

"Sam, stop it!" Beatrice cried, reaching for his gun arm but he pushed her to the ground with a thud. She stared up at him, wounded.

"Stay out of this, Beatrice!" Sam yelled. "Why are you even here? You're not family. You're _nothing_, don't you understand that? You're pathetic!"

"I knew it," Dean muttered, "Ellicott did something to you."

"For once in your life, just shut your mouth."

"What are you going to do, Sam? Gun's filled with rock salt. It's not going to kill me." Sam pulled the trigger, shooting Dean square in the chest.

"No, but it'll hurt like hell." The impact sent Dean flying, straight into the next room.

"Sam.." Dean pleaded as his brother loomed over him. "We 'gotta burn Ellicott's bones. This will all be over. You'll be back to normal!"

"I am normal. I'm just telling the truth, for the first time. I mean, why are we even here? 'Cause you're following Dad's orders like a good little soldier? Because you always do what he says, without question? Are you that desperate for his approval?"

"This isn't you talking, Sam." Beatrice said desperately as she struggled to her feet but he hit her again, sending her back down to her knees. "Sam, please…"

"That's the difference between you two, and me. I have a mind of my own. I can think, I don't follow blindly because no one else wants you."

"So, what are you going to do, huh? Are you going to kill us?"

"You know what, I am sick of doing what you tell me to do. We're no closer to finding Dad today than we were six months ago."

"Well, then, here. Let me make it easier for you," Dean held out his pistol, "come on. Take it. Real bullets are 'gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt. Take it!"

"Dean, no!" Beatrice begged but was hit again. Sam snatched the gun and aimed it at Dean's face, much to Beatrice's horror.

"You hate me that much? You think you could kill your own brother? Then go ahead. Pull the trigger. Do it!"

Sam pulled the trigger, but fired a blank. Then another, and another. Dean smirked, knocking Sam's legs from beneath him. He stood over Sam. "Man, I'm not 'gonna give you a loaded pistol!" He kicked his brother hard in the face with a grin. "Sorry, Sammy."

He jogged to Beatrice, helping her up. "Are you okay?"

"I think so."

"Bea, what Sam was saying.. He didn't mean it. I mean, you are family. And he loves you just as much as I do."

"I know, Dean. And I love you too." She pulled back from the hug, and pointed to a cupboard. "I reckon this Ellicott guy is in there." Dean nodded.

"I'm with you there." He jerked the door open, recoiling at the smell the mummified corpse was emitting. "Oh, that's just gross." He began to pour salt over the body. "Soak it up." Beatrice paused.

"Uh... Dean?"

"One second, Bea."

"I think there's someone else here." Dean looked up at her.

"Like- Bea, look out!" A gurney flew across the room, knocking Beatrice into the wall and pinning her there. She struggled, trying to throw it off but an invisible force held her still. Dean groaned as Ellicott moved swiftly towards him, placing his hands on either side of his head.

"Don't be afraid. I'm going to help you. I'm going to make you all better." Ellicott said, his words coming out in strange mumbles.

"Dean!" Beatrice managed to shove the gurney to the other side of the room and she tackled Ellicott, her teeth gritted so hard her jaw ached.

"Burn the bones, now!" She screamed, struggling to push Ellicott's hands away from her face. Dean crawled to the body, throwing his lighter onto the remains. Ellicott paused, dropping Beatrice to the ground as his flesh turned black and he collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Sam awoke, flexing his jaw as he looked over at Beatrice and Dean. "You're not 'gonna try and kill me, are you?" Dean asked him.

"No."

"Good. Because that would be awkward."

"Thanks, guys." Kat smiled, Gavin's arm around her waist.

"Yeah, thanks."

"No more haunted asylums, okay?" Beatrice said, waving them off as they returned to their car. The trio began walking to the Impala.

"Hey, guys?" Sam bit his bottom lip as he looked at Dean and Beatrice. "I'm sorry. I said some awful things back there."

"You remember all that?" Beatrice bit her lip, inwardly flinching as she remembered his hands on her, hurting her with intent. It terrified her.

"Yeah, it's like I couldn't control it. But I didn't mean any of it."

"You didn't, huh?"

"No, of course not. Do we need to talk about this?"

"No. I'm not really in the sharing and caring 'kinda mood. I just wanna get some sleep." As Dean got into the car, Sam pulled Beatrice aside and pulled her into a hug.

"Bea, what I did to you.. I'm really, really sorry. I never wanted to put my hands on you, never. I… I _hurt_ you." He looked generally upset about what he'd done. Beatrice smiled at him.

"Hey, it's okay. It wasn't your fault, Sam."

"Bea, you're covered in bruises." She shrugged.

"Yeah. but I don't blame you." She pulled back and crawled into the back of the Impala before falling into a dreamless sleep.

Beatrice awoke as a phone rang. "Dean?" Nothing. "Sammy?" Nothing. Frowning, she sat up in bed and grabbed Dean's phone from the bedside table. Without checking it open she flipped it open. "Hello?" Her eyes widened, and she sat up in bed. "John?"

"I know you're just doing your job, but the police have been here all week already. I don't see why we have to go through this again. The more he tells the story, the more he believes it's true." The woman sighed, her hand on her young son's shoulder.

"Mrs Mckay, we know you spoke with the local authorities." Sam said sharply.

"But this seems like a matter for the state police, so.." Beatrice continued, giving the woman a warm smile she hoped didn't look too forced. "Don't worry about how crazy it sounds, Evan. You just tell us what you saw." She crouched down to the little boy's level, giving him a genuine smile this time.

"I was up late, watching TV, when I heard this weird noise."

"What did it sound like?"

"It sounded like... A monster."

"Tell the officers what you were watching on TV?" Mrs Mckay scowled.

"Godzilla vs Mothra." Evan admitted. Dean grinned.

"That's my favourite Godzilla movie! It's so much better than the original, right?"

"Totally."

"Yeah," he nodded at Sam, "he likes the remake."

"Yuck!" Beatrice shot Dean a look.

"Are we ready to get back onto the subject, officer?" Dean nodded.

"Yeah, sorry."

"Right. Evan, did you see what this thing was?"

"No, but I saw it grab Mr Jenkins. It pulled him underneath the car."

"Then what?"

"It took him away. I heard the monster leaving, it made this really scary sound."

"What did it sound like, Evan?"

"Like this.. whining growl."

"Thanks for your time." Beatrice grinned at Evan and straightened up again. "Let's go." She led Sam and Dean out.

The bar was almost empty of all life when the trio arrived. Beatrice collapsed onto one of the chairs and ordered her usual drink. "Thank god for fake ID's." She muttered to Dean, who nodded.

"You can say that again."

"So, local police have ruled out foul play. Apparently, there are worse signs of a struggle."

"Well, they could be right. It could just be a kidnapping. Maybe this isn't our kind of gig." Dean shrugged, sipping his beer.

"Yeah, maybe not. Except for this, Dad marked the area, Dean. Possible hunting grounds of a phantom attacker."

"Why would he even do that?"

"Well, he found out a lot of local folklore about a dark figure that comes out at night. Grabs people, then vanishes. He found this, too. This county has more missing persons per capita than anywhere else in the state."

"That is weird."

"Yeah."

"Don't phantom attackers usually snatch people from their beds? Jenkins was taken from a parking lot." Beatrice said.

"Well, there are all kinds. You know, springhill jacks, phantom gassers. They take people from anywhere, anytime. Look, guys, I don't know if this is our kind of gig either."

"Yeah, you're right. We should ask around more, tomorrow."

"Right. I saw a motel about five miles back." Sam pulled out his wallet, all set to pay for the drinks but Dean stopped him.

"Woah, woah, easy. Let's have another round."

"We should have an early start."

"Yeah, you really know how to have fun, don't you Grandma? Alright, I'll meet you both outside. I gotta take a leak." Dean grabbed his jacket and disappeared into the men's toilets.

Autumn perched on the hood of the car, watching Sam as he searched for the keys. He froze, suddenly. "You hear that?"

"What?"

"That noise." He hushed her, and she listened.

"Oh my god, yeah." She threw him a flashlight and he checked under a nearby car, only to see a tiny ginger cat. He laughed.

"Just a cat."

"That's good, then." She laughed, barely noticing the man wearing a balaclava that came up behind Sam. Beatrice cried out a second too late. The man hit him around the back of the neck and fell limp in the man's embrace.

A pair of arms wrapped around her waist from behind and started dragging her from the parking lot. "Let me go! Sam!" She screamed, before a cloth covered her face and everything went dark.

Beatrice's head was pounding when she woke up She couldn't remember anything, so assumed she had a hangover until she noticed the bars. Sitting bolt upright, she began to panic. "Sam?"

"Bea!" Came the reply.

"Sam, where are you?"

"I'm in a cage. Don't worry, we're going to get out of here." Beatrice raised her fingers to her face and they came away wet. She'd been bleeding, but couldn't work out why.

"I'm scared." She admitted.

"I know, but it's going to be okay. Hey, I think Jenkins is waking up." He added, then paused. "You're alive. You okay?" He said, presumably to the groaning man.

"Does it look like I'm doin' okay?"

"Where are we?"

"I don't know. The country, I think. Smells like the country."

"You're Alvin Jenkins, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"Me, my brother and my friend were looking for you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well, no offense, but this is a poor rescue."

"Well, my brother's out there right now, too. He's looking for us, so-"

"So, he's not going to find us. We're in the middle of for them to come back and do god-knows-what to us."

"What are they? Have you seen them?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Whatever's got us, what'd they look like?"

"See for yourself." The door jerked open, and Beatrice straightened up to see what it was.

"Hey!" She called, one of the men acknowledged her and went over. "I want to be with him." She said as firmly as she could. The man hesitated, then grunted and unlocked the cage, pulling her out by her arm and towards Sam's cage. He unlocked it and pushed her in.

Next, they unlocked Jenkins' cage, much to his horror.

"Leave me alone! Don't you dare take me, leave me alone!" They threw him a pile of food, locked the cage once more, and left. Beatrice looked up.

"I'll be damned. They're just people." She muttered.

"Yeah, what'd you expect?" Jenkins laughed.

"How often do they feed you?"

"Once a day. And they use that.. thing, over there to open the cage."

"And that's the only time you see them?"

"So far. But I'm waitin'."

"Waiting for what?"

"Ned Beatty time, man."

"I think that's the least of your worries right now." Sam muttered, pulling Beatrice into his arms. She mumbled a small thanks, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"What do you think they want, then?" Jenkins watched as Sam grabbed a long metal wire stretching over the top of the cage, trying to pull it down.

"Depends on who they are." He answered, concentrating on the wire.

"They're a bunch of physco hillbilly rednecks, if you ask me. Lookin' for love in all the wrong places." He replied. Beatrice frowned as the wire became gradually more and more detached from the ceiling. "What's your names, again?" Jenkins continued.

"It's Sam."

"Lucille," Beatrice answered, exchanging a glance with Sam. She didn't trust this man and therefore, didn't want him to have her name. That mattered to her.

"Why don't you give it up, Sammy? There's no way out."

"Don't. Call me. Sammy." A small piece of metal fell to the floor beside him.

"What is it?"

"It's a bracket." Beatrice said, looking at Jenkins as if he was stupid.

"Well, thank god it's a bracket. Now we've got 'em, huh?" Suddenly, Jenkins cage door opened. "Must've been short." He smirked, clumsily getting out of the cage. "Maybe you knocked somethin' loose."

"I think you should get back in there, Jenkins." Beatrice said coldly.

"What?"

"This isn't right." Sam added.

"Don't you wanna get out of here?"

"Yeah. But that was too easy."

"Look, I'm gonna' get out of here. I'm gonna' send help, okay? Don't worry."

"No, I'm serious. Jenkins, this might be a trap."

"Do you want to die?!" Beatrice snapped. She too wanted to be safe, but something about this seemed odd. She couldn't be doing with this guys idiocy, and if he wanted to leave, so be it.

"Listen here, princess. I'm a big boy, and tougher than you'll ever be. If you were my girl, you'd be out making me sandwiches and fetchin' beers, so don't tell me what to do."

A low, almost feral growl came from the back of Beatrice's throat and Sam had to physically restrain her to stop her lunging at the bars and towards Jenkins. He knew she'd only end up hurting herself in her rage.

"Bye Sammy, bye Princess." Jenkins chuckled, and left. After five minutes of waiting, there came an awful scream, then it fell silent.

"Well, we did tell him." Beatrice said quietly, and passed out in Sam's arms.

Beatrice's eyes flickered open. "Sam?" She shook him awake with a frown. There was a woman sleeping in the cage next to theirs. "Sam, wake up." She said again and Sam opened one eye.

"I'm awake. What's up?"

"There's a... woman?" She motioned to the brunette. At the sound of Beatrice's voice, the woman sat up and groaned, holding her head.

"You alright?" Sam asked her, frowning. The woman grinned tiredly.

"Are you Sam and Bea Winchester?"

"Uh.. Yeah?" Beatrice glanced at Sam, eyebrow raised.

"Your uh.. cousin's looking for you." Sam sighed in relief.

"Thank god. Where is he?"

"I uh.. I cuffed him to my car." The woman admitted. Beatrice groaned as the door opened, and she flinched, resting her face on Sam's chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tightly.

"I gotcha'." He muttered in her ear.

"Sam? Bea?" The man called, and Beatrice looked up, her gaze hopeful.

"Dean!" She almost laughed. "Man, am I glad to see you." Dean rushed over to the cage, crouching down in front of them.

"Are either of you hurt?"

"No."

"Damn, it's good to see you."

"How did you get out of the cuffs?" The woman said in disbelief.

"Oh, I know a trick or two. Alright. Oh, these locks look like they're going to be a bitch."

"Well, there's some kind of automatic control over there." Beatrice pointed to the control panel, wincing in pain as she sat.

"Have you seen 'em?" Dean asked, looking curious.

"Yeah. Dude, they're just people."

"And they jumped you? Must be getting a little rusty there, kids." He smiled softly. "What do they want?" He called as he pressed different buttons on the panel. Nothing.

"I don't know. They let Jenkins go, but that was some sort of trap. It doesn't make any sense to me." Sam shrugged.

"Well, that's the point. You know, with our usual playmates, there's rules, there's patterns, but people are just crazy."

"See anything else out there?"

"Uh, he has about a dozen junked cars hidden out back. Plates from all over, so I'm thinking when they take someone they take their car too."

"Did you see a black mustang out there? About ten years old?" The woman asked.

"Yeah, actually. I did. Your brother's?" She nodded. "I'm sorry. Let's get you guys out of here, then we'll take care of those freaks." Dean pointed to the panel. "This thing takes a key. Key?"

"I don't know." Beatrice sighed.

"Alright. I better go find it."

"Hey, be careful."

"Yeah."

"Hey, Sam, did you hear that?" Beatrice had been tugging at a loose thread on her shirt but now she was looking up, alert.

"No, what was it?"

"I swear I heard Dean scream." When she spoke, the door to the barn jerked open and one of their captors walked in.

"Hey!" The woman yelled as the brother stuck a key into the panel. The door to Sam and Beatrice's cage unlocked and he walked over, pulling it open. He grabbed Beatrice by her hair and threw her out, training his gun on Sam.

"Let him go!" Beatrice shrieked. The man kicked her hard in the face and blood spurted less than gracefully from her nose. "Shit," she moaned in pain, hands flying to her face to try and stop the flow of blood but her attempts were fruitless and her hands were drenched with red. She staggered back, her head exploding with pain as he kicked her again and her world clouded and spun.

"Shut up, or he dies." He poked Sam with the tip of the gun and Beatrice fell silent.

"Please, don't hurt her." Sam begged. The man shushed him, but it was pointless because by the time he'd raised a finger to his lips, Sam had tackled him and pinned him to the floor. He snatched the gun and hit the man in the face three times with the butt of it.

He fell limp beneath Sam, who tried to fire the gun, but drew a blank. "Damn." Beatrice crawled towards him, collapsing at his feet. "Looks like a concussion," he said softly as he guided her to her feet, "you and Kathleen hide. I'll deal with them if anymore come, okay?"

Beatrice shook her head. "No. I'm not going to leave-"

She was cut off when he pressed his mouth to hers desperately. His lips were soft and moved in perfect sync with hers and when she pulled away, he was still staring at her lips. "Please, Bea." He begged. She hesitated, then ndded.

"Okay. Be careful."

"Always." She unlocked Kathleen's cage and helped her out, helping her to the best hiding spot she could.

A cupboard. It wasn't much, but it shielded the two women from sight quite successfully. Sam moved to hide behind a bale of hay, eyes fixed on the door, waiting. One of the men, presumably the father, and another, which Sam assumed was the brother, came in.

"Lee? Where are ya'? Lee?" The father yelled. They found Lee unconscious where Sam had dragged him, locked in the cage once occupied by Sam and Beatrice. "Damn it. Jared, get the lights!"

The other brother, Jared, moved to the light switch and pressed it but the bar remained dark. "They must have blown the fuses." Jared grumbled. The father tried the control panel, but Beatrice had broken it before hiding in the cupboard. He paused.

"You hear that?"

"Someone's in the cupboard." Jared smirked, aiming his gun at the cupboard and shooting it. Beatrice cried out involuntarily but even as he fired his gun, the wood held up. He kept firing until Beatrice relented and emerged, her hands raised in surrender.

"Okay, okay. You got me." She said slowly, before tackling Jared and kicking him hard in the ribs. As she did so, Kathleen jumped on his back, her hands clawing at his eyes. He howled, throwing her to the ground before grabbing Beatrice's hair and pulling, hard.

He wrapped an arm around her throat, the gun placed at her temple. She panicked, tears springing to her eyes. "Sam!"

"Hey!" Jared turned and shot at Sam, but he dodged.

The father was hit with the bullet instead and he crumpled like a small straw doll. Sam snatched the gun and hit Jared in the face, watching him fall in the hay beside his Father. "You okay?" He asked Beatrice, wrapping his arms around her.

"I'm fine." She muttered, wiping the blood from her nose. She was a little shaken, but was otherwise okay. Sam let her go and helped Kathleen up. He dragged Jared to Kathleen's cage and locked him in. The father was laid carelessly on the floor, at the mercy of the three.

"I'll watch this one. You go ahead." She muttered. When the pair looked hesitant, she snarled. "Go ahead!" Beatrice held up her hands and backed out, pulling Sam with her as she did so.

"Okay. We're going." Beatrice took his hand and led him back to the house where Dean was wrestling a young girl into a large oak closet.

Beatrice was slightly taken aback.

"Is that a kid?"

"Yep!" He finally got her in and locked the doors. "God, that took some doing. She nearly had my eye out, literally." He added as they laughed.

The three went out to the cop car where Kathleen was waiting for them. "Where's the girl?" She asked grimly, glancing at Dean.

"Locked her in a closet. What about the Dad?"

"Shot. Trying to escape." All four of them exchanged a dark look, before Beatrice started chuckling. It all seemed so ridiculous now, looking back. "So, state police and the FBI are gonna be here within the hour. They're 'gonna want to talk to you. I suggest that you're all long gone by then." Kathleen continued. Dean grinned sheepishly.

"Thanks. Hey, listen. I don't mean to press our luck, but we're kind of in the middle of nowhere. Think we could hitch a ride?"

"Start walking. Duck if you see a squad car."

"Sounds great to me. Thanks." Sam smiled.

"Listen, uh.. I'm sorry about your brother." Dean said to Kathleen. She began to tear up.

"Thank you.. It was really hard not knowing what happened to him. I thought it would be easier once I knew the truth, but it isn't really. Anyway, you should go." She sighed. Sam and Dean nodded, but Beatrice waved.

"Thanks for everything." She smiled, and the three turned to go.

"Never do that again." Dean said as they travelled down the road.

"Do what?" Beatrice frowned.

"Go missing like that."

"You were worried about us." Sam smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"All I'm saying is, you vanish like that again, I'm not looking for you. Either of you." He said, seeing Beatrice's unconvinced expression.

"Sure, you won't."

"I'm not."

"So, you got sidelined by a thirteen year old girl, huh?" Beatrice laughed, ruffling Dean's hair.

"Oh, shut up."

"Just saying. Getting rusty there, kiddo."

"Shut up." All three laughed, wandering into the distance.

The Impala cruised down a long stretch of tarmac. It was mid morning, the sun a red-orange orb in the sky that cast flakes of magenta and yellow across the clouds. But despite this, inside the car, the occupants were either bored to death or in Sam's case, sleeping.

Dean glanced over at his sleeping brother, a smirk on his face. "Hey, Bea?"

"That's my name."

"Do you still have that plastic spoon, from lunch?"

"Uh... Yeah?"

"Awesome. Can I have it?"

"I guess..?" She leant forward in her seat and passed him the plastic spoon she'd used to eat her cheesecake.

He placed to spoon in Sam's mouth, careful not to wake him. "Fire.. Of unknown origins.. Took my baby away!" He sang loudly, turning on the radio. Sam cried out in his sleep, bolting awake. As he realized there was something occupying his mouth he panicked and spat it out, then relaxed.

"Ha ha, very funny." He grumbled, throwing the spoon at Dean's head.

"Sorry, not a lot of scenery here in East Texas. 'Gotta make your own."

"Man, we're not kids anymore, Dean. We're not going to start that crap up again."

"Start what up?"

"That prank stuff. It's stupid, and it always escalates."

"What's the matter, Sammy? Scared you're going to get a little Nair in your shampoo again, huh?" Dean smirked. Beatrice chuckled, returning her attention back to staring out of the window, pretending to herself that she was in a dramatic movie.

"Alright. Just remember you started it." Sam countered.

"Ah ha, bring it on baldy."

"Where are we, anyway?"

"A few hours outside of Richardson. Gimme the lowdown, again?"

"Alright. About a month or two ago, this group of kids goes poking around in this local haunted house." Sam reached for the laptop at his feet as he spoke.

"Haunted by what?" Beatrice asked, glancing up.

"Apparently, a misogynistic spirit. Legend goes, it takes girls and strings them up in the rafters. Anyway, this group of kids see this dead girl hanging in the cellar."

"Anybody ID the corpse?"

"Well, that's the thing. By the time the cops got there, the body was gone. So cops are saying the kids are yanking chains."

"Maybe the cops are right."

"Maybe, but I read a couple of the kids first hand accounts. They seemed pretty sincere."

"Where did you read these accounts?"

"Well, I knew we were going to be passing through Texas. So last night, I surfed some local paranormal websites. And I found one."

"And what's it called?"

"Hell hound's lair dot com."

"Let me guess, streaming live out of Mom's basement."

"Yeah, probably." Sam chuckled, glancing back at Beatrice. The two had barely spoken since Sam had kissed her, though Beatrice seriously wished he'd just say something.

"Yeah. Most of these websites wouldn't know a ghost if it bit them in the persqueeter." Dean continued, seemingly oblivious to the -you-could-cut-it-with-a-knife tension in the car.

"Look, we let Dad take off. Which was a mistake, by the way. And now we don't know where the hell he is and in the meantime, we gotta find ourselves something to hunt. There's no harm in checking this out."

"Alright. So, where do we find these kids?"

"Same place you always find kids in a place like this." Beatrice rolled her eyes as she spoke.

Being the youngest at only eighteen, the brothers generally went to her when asking about society or where kids hung out. She usually had good advice, too, despite not having had much of a childhood herself. She'd just watched too many movies.

The fast food joint from the exterior was bustling with life. The kids in question? Sat right outside. Beatrice smirked at Dean triumphantly, eyebrows raised, as if to say 'I told you so' and moved over to sit with the kids.

"Alright," she showed them her fake FBI badge, "let's cut the crap, shall we? I don't like you, and you don't like me. Let's face it, I mean, I'm a cop. But the others, they don't believe you, right? Well, I do. So get talkin', or I start arrestin'." She said, looking sincere and trying to sound as intimidating as she could. The kids were taken aback by her sudden appearance, but obediently began to tell her what happened.

"It was the scariest thing I ever saw in my life, I swear to god."

"From the moment we walked in, the walls were painted black."

"Red!"

"I think it was blood."

"All these freaky symbols."

"Crosses, and stars, and.."

"Pentagons."

"Pente_costales_."

"Whatever, I had my eyes closed the whole time."

"But I can damn sure tell you this much, no matter what anyone says.."

"That poor girl.."

"With the black-"

"Blonde!"

"_Red_ hair, just hanging there."

"Kicking!"

"Without even moving!"

"She was real."

"One hundred percent."

"And kinda hot. Well, you know, in a dead sort of way." Beatrice raised both eyebrows, nodding somewhat skeptically. From what she could gather, these kids were on some form of narcotics. And in hindsight, she supposed that probably explained a lot.

"And.. how'd you find out about this place?" She asked. The kids exchanged glances.

"Craig took us."

"Well, kids. Thanks for your time." She tucked her badge into her pocket and retreated back to the car. "And that is how you interrogate a bunch of stoned teenagers." She smirked. Sam nodded in approval.

"Nicely done."

"Why, thank you." She winked, getting into the back. "So, all of them seemed to have different ideas about the chick and what happened, but they all claimed a guy called Craig took them."

"Guess we're on a Craig hunt, then." Dean muttered, waking up the engine.

The next morning, the trio wandered into the music shop. A smile spread across Beatrice's face. Def Leppard's 'Pour Some Sugar On Me' was playing in the background. "Man, I love this song." She muttered. Dean nodded in agreement. The clerk behind the counter looked up at them.

"Can I help you with anything?"

"Yeah, are you Craig Thurston?" Sam asked, frowning at the acne ridden adolescent.

"I am."

"Well, we're reporters with the Dallas Morning News. I'm Dean, this is Sam, and this is Bea."

"No way! Well, I'm a writer too. I write for my school's lit magazine."

"Well, good for you Morrisey." Dean rolled his eyes.

"Um, we're doing an article on local hauntings and rumor has it, you might know of one." Beatrice continued, elbowing Dean in the ribs. He scowled at her, but kept silent after she glared at him.

"You mean the Hell House?" Craig asked.

"That's the one."

"I didn't think there was anything to the story."

"Why don't you tell _us_ the story?"

"Well, supposedly, back in the thirties this farmer, Mordechai Murdoch, used to live in this house with his six daughters. It was during the depression, his crops were failing and he didn't have any enough money to feed his own children. So, I guess that's when he went off the deep end."

"How?"

"He figured it would be best if his girls died quick rather than starve to death. So he attacked them. They screamed, begged for him to stop but he just strung 'em up, one after the other. And when he was all finished, he just turned around and hung himself. Now they say that his spirit is trapped inside the house forever, stringing up any other girl that goes in."

"Where'd you hear all this?"

"My cousin Dana told me. I don't know where she heard it from. You 'gotta realize, I didn't believe this for a second."

"But now you do?"

"I don't know what the hell to think. You guys, I'll tell you exactly what I told the police, okay? That girl was real. This was not a prank. I swear to god. I don't wanna go near that house ever again, okay?" He shrugged, looking very uneasy.

"Thanks." They said, and left. Beatrice glanced at Sam.

"Okay, sexist spirit. Sounds like my kinda thing." Sam looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

"How so?"

"Oh, did I never mention I was an angry feminist?"

"No."

"Ah. Well I am." She laughed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Should be fun."

Beatrice looked up at the supposed 'Hell House', her feet sloshing in the mud as she made her way up the front path. "Why is it," she turned back to face Sam and Dean, "I'm always leading you two idiots? I mean, surely you're not _scared_?"

"Shut up." Dean scowled, sounding defensive. Beatrice laughed brightly.

"Joking, Dean. Joking." She grinned. Sam looked up at the house, frowning slightly.

"I can't say I blame the kid." He muttered.

"Yeah, so much for curb appeal." Beatrice help up the EMF reader, frowning.

"You got something?" Sam asked her, glancing over her shoulder at the reader. She sighed, tucking it back into her pocket.

"Ye-ah, the EMF's no good."

"Why?" She pointed to the window where overhead power lines loomed over the house.

"I think that thing's still got a little juice in it. It's screwing with the readings."

"Yeah, that'd do it." Sam muttered. Beatrice glanced up at him, and without a second thought she entwined her fingers with his. It gave her the sort of warm comfort you'd expect from reading classic novels by the fire, amongst the unruly power of a thunderstorm.

Sam smiled weakly at her, giving her hand an encouraging squeeze. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. Come on lovebirds, let's go." He led the two into the house, letting out a long whistle. "Looks like old man Murdoch was a bit of a tagger in his time."

"And after his time, too. The reverse cross has been used by satanists for centuries." Sam muttered, running his finger over the wall.

"But this sigil of sulfur didn't show up in San Francisco until the 60's." Beatrice growned.

"Hey, what about this one, you ever seen this one before?" Dean asked, pointing to another symbol on the adjacent wall.

"No." Sam frowned.

"I have, somewhere." Beatrice said, crossing the room to get a better look.

"Yeah, me too." Dean glanced at her. Sam put his hand against the wall again.

"It's paint. Seems pretty fresh, too."

"I don't know, guys, you know I hate to agree with authority figures of any kind, but the cops might be right about this one." Dean shrugged.

"Yeah, maybe." A sudden noise from the kitchen put them all on alert, weapons clutched tightly to their chests. Beatrice shifted to one side of the doorframe, while Sam and Dean tackled the other.

"On the count of three," she mouthed, "one, two-" She was cut off as a bright light shone in her eyes, forcing her to stagger back in surprise.

"Oh, cut. It's just a coupla' humans." A voice said in irritation. Beatrice slapped the hand in front of her face away, scowling. It was a young male, accompanied by another man.

"What are you guys doing here?" The man asked, smirking at Beatrice. She resisted the urge to punch him.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?!" She said angrily, her hand moving to the gun hidden craftily inside her jacket's inside pocket, (even though if it malfunctioned inside her clothes and fired, she'd be dead for sure).

"Ah-ha-ha, we belong here. We're professionals."

"Professional what?"

"Paranormal investigators," the taller of the two handed Beatrice a business card, "there you go, take a look at that shortcake."

"Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me."

"Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spangler? Hellhound's lair dot com, you guys run that site?" Sam asked, wrapping an arm around Beatrice's waist.

"Yeah."

"Oh yeah, yeah, we're huge fans." Dean said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"And ah, we know who you guys are too."

"Oh yeah?" Beatrice challenged him.

"Amateurs. Looking for ghosts and cheap thrills."

"Yep. So if you guys don't mind, we're trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation here."

"Yeah? What have you got so far?" Beatrice continued, folding her arms.

"Harry, why don't you tell 'em about EMF?"

"Well.." Sam looked at Beatrice, who was scowling. He decided to play dumb, and couldn't hide the smile that threatened to creep onto his face.

"EMF?"

"Electromagnetic field. Spectral entities can cause energy fluctuations that can be read with an EMF detector. Like this bad boy here." Harry turned it on, grinning. Dean smirked at Sam.

"Woah, woah. It's 2.8 mg."

"2.8... It's hot in here." Beatrice rolled her eyes, whistling in mock admiration.

"Wow.."

"Huh, so have you guys ever really seen a ghost before, or.."

"Once. Well, we were uh.. we were investigating this old house and we saw a vase fall right off the table."

"By itself."

"Well, we didn't actually see it. We heard it. And something like that, it uh, changes you."

"Yeah, I think I got the picture. We should go, let them get back to work." Dean said, biting his lip to fight back a laugh.

"Yeah, you should."

"Sam, Bea." Dean motioned for the two to follow them, which they did.

Beatrice leant against the hood of the Impala, flicking through an old Demonology book. As she did so, Sam came down the library steps holding various pieces of paper and books. "Hey." He grinned.

"Hey, whatcha' got?" Dean asked, glancing at the papers.

"Well, I couldn't find a Mordechai, but I did find a Martin Murdoch who lived in that house in the 30's. He did have children but only two of them, both boys, and there's no evidence that he ever killed anyone."

"Huh."

"What about you?"

"Well those kids didn't really give us a clear description of that dead girl, but I did hit up the police station. No matching missing persons, it's like she never existed. For all we know, those hellhound boys made up the whole thing." Dean sighed.

"Yeah, alright." Sam nodded.

"I say we find ourself a bar and some beers, and leave the legend to the locals." Beatrice suggested with a grin.

Dean nodded in agreement, sliding into the front seat. Beatrice got in back but Sam lingered next to the driver's window. As Dean put the key in the ignition, western country music burst into life and the wipers moved into action.

"Woah! What the-?" Dean stabbed the radio, muting the music. Sam got in shotgun, laughing. He licked his finger and marked an imaginary '1' in the air before pointing to himself. "That's all you got? Sweet. That is bush league." Beatrice giggled, watching the two boys bicker.

"Nice." She said, a little awkwardly.

"Thanks." An uncomfortable silence fell over the two as Dean turned the radio to Classic Rock. He glanced at Sam and Beatrice.

"So, what's going on between you two?"

"What? Nothing!"

"Oh, get real. The odd kisses, the hand holding... Don't think I hadn't noticed." Beatrice stared down at her thighs, a furious crimson spreading across her pale cheeks.

"There's nothing going on between Sam and I.." She tried to insist. Dean glanced back at her, his expression tiresome.

"Yeah, whatever."

Emergency vehicles and men moved around. A stretcher carrying the stiff corpse of a young teenage girl was brought from the 'Hell House'. Beatrice frowned, approaching one of the members of public who was viewing the grisly scene. "What happened?" She asked.

"A couple of cops say the girl hung herself in the house."

"Suicide?"

"Yeah. She was a straight A student, with a full ride too UT too. It just doesn't make sense." The man walked away, leaving Beatrice alone with her thoughts. Sam and Dean rushed over.

"What happened?" Sam asked.

"Girl hung herself." Beatrice sighed.

"What do you think?"

"I think maybe we missed something."

A police car pulled up outside the 'Hell House'. Two cops emerged from the car and patrolled the area, their eyes narrowed and guns held close. Beatrice cursed under her breath. "I guess the cops don't want anyone else screwing around in there." She muttered.

"Yeah, but we still gotta get in there." Dean replied. Beatrice looked up with a frown.

"Do you hear that?" When she spoke, Ed and Harry walked past, whispering excitedly then shh-ing each other with a scowl.

"I've got an idea." She rose up on her knees ever so slightly, turned to the cops and cupped her hands around her mouth. "Who you gonna' call?" Ed and Harry looked up, confused.

"Wha-?"

"Hey, you!" The cops ran after them. Beatrice laughed out loud without being able to stop herself, slapping her hands quickly to her mouth to muffle the sounds. After the cops seemed to have gone, the trio made their way back into the house. Dean turned on a flashlight, scowling at the symbol.

"Where have I seen that symbol before? It's killing me!"

"Come on, we don't have much time." Beatrice sighed, pulling him from the room. The three went down to the basement were odd jars sat, filled with liquids and animal foetuses.

"Hey, Sam," Dean smirked, "I dare you to take a swig of this."

"What the hell would I do that for?"

"Double dare 'ya." Sam smiled, shaking his head as he took a good luck around. Beatrice laughed, then paused. A sudden noise had her on alert and she moved next to the door. Sam and Dean followed. At Dean's nod, Sam opened the door. Two rats ran out and Beatrice screamed.

"Arggh! I hate rats!" She yelped.

"You'd rather it was a ghost?" Sam laughed.

"Yes!" When she spoke, the ghost of Mordechai Murdoch appeared behind Sam, an axe raised high above his head. "Sammy! Look out!" Sam twisted round and he shot twice with the salt gun, but Mordechai didn't react. Beatrice cursed, shooting at it one more time before he finally disappeared.

"What the hell kind of spirit is immune to rock salt?" Sam muttered.

"I don't know. Come on!" Dean started to drag the two of them to the stairs, but Mordechai beat them to it and hit the shelf with his axe, causing it to collapse on top of Beatrice. Sam growled.

"Hey!" He tackled Mordechai, and as the two fought Dean dragged Beatrice out from under the splinters of wood.

"Hey, you okay?" He said gently. She nodded slowly, slightly dazed but otherwise fine.

"Yeah. Sam!"

"Go! Get out of here!" Sam yelled.

"Sam! I'm serious!" She cried, holding her hand out towards him. Mordechai's eyes narrowed nastily and he brought the axe down on the electrical box. Sparks flew.

Sam grabbed Beatrice on instinct, picking her up in a bridal lift as he carried her from the house, Dean close behind. "I don't believe it!" As they left the house the two goofballs, Ed and Harry, were making their way up the front path holding their camera.

"Get that damn thing out of my face!" Dean snarled.

"Go!" Sam yelled, still holding Beatrice close to his chest. The two were still facing the door as Mordechai came out.

"Sweet lord.."

"..Of the rings. Run! Go!" Harry pushed Ed, urging him to run. They turned to flee. However, their attempts failed as they ran straight into the arms of the cops.

"Look! There's a.. look! There's a man over there, I saw.. Where'd he go?"

"Boys, come on." The cops dragged them away, leaving the trio laughing in the bushes.

Beatrice sat on the motel bed, absentmindedly doodling the symbol they had seen in the house. "What the _hell_ is this symbol," she muttered, "it's buggin' the hell out of me. This whole damn job's buggin' me. I thought the legend says Mordechai only goes after chicks."

"It does." Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Alright. Well, that explains why he went after you two, but why me?" Dean smirked at Sam.

"Hilarious! The legend also says he hung himself but did you see those slit wrists?"

"Yeah."

"What's up with that? And the axe, too. I mean, ghosts are usually pretty strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over again." Beatrice said as she set the journal to one side.

"But this mook keeps changing."

"Exactly. I'm telling you, the way the story goes.. Wait a minute." Sam trailed off, opening Hell Hound's Lair with a concentrated frown.

"What?"

"Someone added a new post to the HellHound site. Listen to this. They say Mordechai Murdock was really a Satanist who chopped up his victims with an axe before slitting his own wrists. Now he's imprisoned in the house for eternity." Sam read aloud. Beatrice glanced at the drawing, wrinkling her nose. "Where the hell is this going?" Sam continued.

"I don't know, but I think I might have just figured out where it all started." Beatrice said, jumping to her feet.

A very early Metallica song was playing on the radio when the three pushed open the door of the record store and went in. Craig looked up from a magazine he was reading behind the front desk, visibly tired. "Hey, Craig. Remember us?" Beatrice grinned.

"Guys, look. I'm really not in the mood to answer any of your questions, okay?"

"Oh, don't worry. We're just here to buy an album. That's all."

She moved over to a stack of records, picking one up and inspecting it. "You know, I couldn't figure out what that symbol was and then I realized it doesn't mean anything. It's the logo for the Blue Oyster Cult." She smirked, placing it on the counter.

"Tell me, Craig," Dean scowled at the young boy, "you into BOC? Or just scaring the hell 'outta people? No, why don't you tell us about the house.. Without lying through your teeth this time." Craig sighed heavily, nodding.

"Alright. Um, my cousin Dana was on break from TCU. I guess we were just bored, looking for something to do. So I showed her this old abandoned dump I found. We thought it would be funny if we made it look like it was haunted. So we painted symbols on the wall, some from albums, some from some of Dana's theology textbooks. Then we found out this guy Murdock used to live there so we made up some story to go along with that. So we told people, who told other people. And then these two guys put it on their stupid website. Everything just took on a life of it's own. I mean, I thought it was funny at first but that girl's dead! It was just a joke, you know, none of it was real! We just made up the whole thing, I swear." Craig wailed, looking torn.

"Alright." Sam paid for the record and dragged the other two from the shop, both of which looked more interested than they should.

"If none of it was real, then how the hell do you explain Mordechai?" Dean muttered to them.

Beatrice thumbed through a classic novel, alone in the motel room as Sam showered. The door opened and Dean walked in, holding a packet labeled 'itching powder'. Beatrice raised an eyebrow at him."Seriously?" She asked tiredly. Dean shrugged.

"He's the one who continued this." He opened the packet and began shaking it into Sam's underwear. "Hey, I'm back." He called into the bathroom as the sounds of running water stopped.

"Hey, where were you?" Sam called from the bathroom.

"Oh, I went out."

"So I think I might have a theory about what's going on."

"Oh yeah?"

"What if Mordechai is a Tulpa?"

"Tulpa?"

"Yeah, a Tibetan thought form." Sam came from the bathroom, clothed only by a towel around his waist. Beatrice opened her mouth to say something, looking up from her copy of To Kill a Mockingbird but her words died in her throat and she stared at Sam, her eyes wide as she hoped he didn't notice. Dean swung around hastily, hiding the packet from site.

"Ah, yeah. I know what a Tulpa is. Hey, why don't you get dressed. I wanna grab something to eat." Dean went into the bathroom, grinning at Sam as he closed the door. Sam raised an eyebrow, glancing at Beatrice who shrugged before he picked up his underwear.

"There you go, kids." The server handed over two coffees for the boys and an iced tea for Beatrice. She smiled gratefully, accepting the tea while Dean got the coffees.

"Thank you." They made their way over to a table where Sam was already sat waiting for them. He grimaced, adjusting his jeans in discomfort.

"Dude, what's your problem?" The elder Winchester raised an eyebrow as he watched his younger brother carefully.

"Nothing, I'm fine."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"So, ahh, alright, keep going. What about these Tulpas?"

"Okay, so there was this incident in Tibet in 1915. A group of monks visualised a golem in their head. They meditated on it so hard they brought the thing to life out of thin air." He explained. Beatrice raised an eyebrow, sipping her tea.

"So?" She yawned, placing the mug back onto the table.

"That was 20 monks. Imagine what 10,000 web surfers can do. I mean, Craig starts the story about Mordechai. Then it spreads, goes online. Now there are countless people all believing in him."

"Now, wait a second. Are you trying to tell us that just because people believe in Mordechai, he's real?" Beatrice looked unconvinced.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"People believe in Santa Claus. How come I'm not getting hooked up every Christmas?" Dean frowned, eyes sceptical.

"Because you're a bad person. And because of this." Sam turned the computer around, showing Dean and Beatrice a photo of one of the symbols Craig and his cousin had painted on the wall of the 'Hell House'. "That's a Tibetan spirit sigil on the wall of the house. Craig said they were painting symbols from a Theology textbook. I bet he painted this, not even knowing what it that sigil has been used for centuries, concentrating meditative thoughts like a magnifying glass. So people on the HellHound website, staring at the symbol, thinking about Mordechai... I mean, I don't know, but it might be enough to bring a Tulpa to life."

"It would explain why he keeps changing." Beatrice shrugged. Sam nodded and adjusted his jeans again.

"Right, as the legend changes people think different things, so the legend itself changes. Like a game of telephone. That would also explain why the Rock Salt didn't work."

"Yeah, because he's not a traditional spirit." Still fidgeting, Sam nodded again.

"Yeah."

"Okay, so why don't we just uh, get this spirit sigil thingie off the wall and off the website?" Dean continued.

"Well, it's not that simple. You see, once Tulpas are created they take on a life of their own."

"Great. So, if he really is a thought form, how the hell are we supposed to kill an idea?"

"Well, it's not going to be easy with these guys helping us. Check out their homepage." Sam sighed, pushing the computer towards them.

The footage from the night before was playing on the screen. "Since they've posted the footage their number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone."

"Hmph, I've got an idea. Come on." Beatrice stood, draining the last of her tea.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked her, frowning.

"We have to find a copy store." Sam and Dean stood, prepared to follow her.

"Man, I think I'm allergic to our soap or something." Sam groaned, running his palms uncomfortably along his thighs.

Beatrice struggled to stifle a laugh as she followed Dean out of the diner. "You two did this!?" Sam glared at his laughing companions. "You're both friggin' jerks!"

"Hey, I'm just the witness." Beatrice smirked, holding her hands up innocently.

"Oh, yeah." Dean led the way onto the street, both in hysterics.

Beatrice slammed her fist three times against the door of the rusted trailer. "Who is it?!" A voice squealed inside. She rolled her eyes. "Come on out here, guys. We hear you in there."

"It's them!" Another voice yelped. Both stuck their heads around the door, scowling.

"Ah, would you look at that," Dean smirked, "action figures in their original packaging. What a shock."

"Guys, we need to talk." Sam sighed, shooting Dean a look.

"Yeah, um, sorry guys. We're a little, ahh, busy right now."

"Okay, well we'll make it quick. We need you to shut down your website." Dean said, looking earnestly at them.

"Well, these guys got us busted last night. Spent the night in a holding cell."

"I had to pee in that cell urinal! In front of people, _and_ I get stage fright." Harry yelled. Beatrice folded her arms across her chest, rolling her eyes again.

"Oh, cry me a river."

"Why should we trust you guys?" Ed said, glancing anxiously at Beatrice. It was pretty obvious he was into her and it was starting to make her uneasy. Sam, picking up on this, wrapped his arm protectively around her waist. She grinned up at him, resting her head against his chest.

"Look guys. We all know what we saw last night, what's in that house. But now, thanks to your website there are thousands of people hearing about Mordechai."

"That's right. Which means people are going to keep showing up at the 'Hell House', running into him in person. Somebody could get hurt." Beatrice snapped.

"Yeah, yeah." Ed snapped, eyes still fixed on Beatrice's face.

"Ed, maybe she's got a point. Maybe-" Harry started, but Ed cut him off.

"Nope!"

"No."

"We have an obligation to our fans. To the _truth_."

"Well, I have an obligation both your little asses right now." Dean growled.

"Dean, Dean. It's okay," Sam glanced at Ed and Harry, "hey, just forget about it, alright? These guys... Probably slap them both. I could probably even tell them that thing about Mordechai, and they still wouldn't help us... Let's just go."

"Woah, woah-" Ed began, but Beatrice shook her head in mock sadness.

"Yeah, Sam's right. Come on, guys." The trio started walking while the two boys trailed behind.

"What you say about-"

"Hang on a second here-"

"Wait, wait-"

"What thing about Mordechai, you guys?" Harry laughed nervously.

"Don't tell them, Sam." Beatrice said urgently, feigning horror.

"But what if they agree to shut the website down?" Sam asked, taking a hold of her hand.

"They're not going to do it. You said so yourself!"

"No, wait. Wait. Don't listen to her, okay? We'll do it." When Beatrice looked unconvinced he nodded eagerly. "_We'll do it_!"

"It's a secret." Beatrice told them, smirking.

"Look, it's a really big deal, alright? And it wasn't easy to dig up. So, only if we have your word that you'll shut everything down." Sam looked at them earnestly. Both nodded.

"Totally."

"Alright," Sam said as Dean handed over some paperwork, "It's a death certificate from the thirties. We got it at the library. Now, according to the coroner, the actual cause of death was a self inflicted gunshot wound."

"That's right. He didn't hang, or cut himself." Dean nodded in agreement.

"He shot himself?"

"Yep. With a '45 pistol. To this day they say he's terrified of them." Beatrice added, seeing they looked unconvinced. "Matter of fact, they say if you shoot him with a '45, loaded with these special wrought-iron rounds, it'd kill him."

Both men squealed gleefully, rushing back to the trailer to write down this new information. "Nice." Sam grinned, high fiving Beatrice.

"Oh, shut up and kiss me, Winchester." She muttered, pulling him into a forceful kiss. Sam's hands snaked around her waist and he held her close, closing his eyes. Dean paused.

"I'll uh.. leave you to it, I guess..?" He raised an eyebrow, smiling as he walked back to the Impala. "Finally." He said, but of course, they were too busy to hear.

Sam's fingers danced over the laptop keyboard as he sat in the diner booth, his head resting on top of Beatrice's, which was laid on his shoulder. He scanned his eyes over his computer screen. As he did, Dean reached up to the model fisherman beside them and pulled the cord.

An annoying laugh came from a small speaker in the middle of the fisherman's belly. "If you pull that string one more time, I'm going to kill you." Sam scowled. He reached out and pulled the string so it would stop laughing. Dean, expression stony, pulled the cord once more.

Sam pulled it again to silence it. Dean snickered.

"Come on, man. You need more laughter in your life. You know you're way too tense." Sam shot him a look and he fell serious in a matter of seconds. "They post it yet?" Sam turned the computer to face Dean, stabbing at his salad.

"We've learned from reputable sources that Mordechai Murdock has a fatal fear of firearms." Beatrice said, having already read and memorized the text.

"Alright, how long do we wait?"

"Long enough for the new story to spread, and the legend to change. I figured by nightfall iron rounds will work on the sucker." Sam held his beer out to Dean, who tapped it with his own.

"Sweet." Dean took a long drink. Beatrice raised an eyebrow at Sam who was grinning.

'What did you do?' She mouthed. Sam chuckled and said nothing.

Dean placed the bottle on the table, but froze when he realized he was unable to pull his hand back. "You didn't." He said. Sam cracked up laughing.

"Oh, I did." He held up a sachet of superglue and shook it at Dean. Dean shook his hand, looking horrified as Beatrice pulled the fisherman's cord.

The 'Hell House' was eerily quiet. Gun raised, Beatrice glanced left and right, always alert for the ghost. Dean readjusted his gun hand. "I barely have any skin left on my palm." He complained.

"I'm not touching that line with a ten foot pole." Sam chuckled.

"So, do you think old Mordechai's home?" Beatrice said quietly, glancing back at the faded Blue Oyster Cult logo, which was still scrawled on the wall.

"I don't know."

"Me either." The trio turned to see Ed and Harry stood there. "Woah, woah." Ed held his hands up in surrender, scowling at Sam who'd raised his gun at him.

"What are you trying to do?! Get yourselves killed!?" Sam yelled.

"We're just trying to get a book and movie deal, okay?" From the basement, the sounds of knives being sharpened filled the air. Beatrice's head snapped up and she crept towards the basement door.

"Oh crap." Harry whined, following after Beatrice, clutching his camera.

"Ah, guys, you wanna.. you wanna open that door for me?" He looked hopefully at Beatrice who rolled her eyes.

"Why don't you?" She snapped, but Mordechai burst through the door before anyone could open the door, wielding his axe and yelling something incoherent. Beatrice cried out in surprise, emptying her gun chamber on him. He paused like he was mocking her, then disintegrated into a thin mist.

"Oh, god. He's gone." Ed said, looking paler than he usually did.

"Did you get him?!" Harry panicked.

"Yeah, they got him!" Ed high-fived his friend, laughing happily.

"No, on camera. Did you get him on camera?"

"Well I-"

"Let me see it." He snatched the camera and flipped it open, scowling. Mordechai appeared again, slamming his axe through the camera and forcing Harry to his knees before disappearing. Beatrice groaned in frustration.

"Hey! Didn't you guys post that B.S story we gave you?!" She yelled, looking furious.

"Of course we did!" Sam and Dean ran in, guns at the ready.

"But then our server crashed." Harry added, looking slightly guilty.

"Yeah."

"So it didn't take?" Dean said in a low voice.

"Uh... Um..."

"So these guns don't work." Beatrice groaned.

"Yeah."

"Great. Guys, any ideas?" She glanced at Sam and Dean with a sigh.

"We are getting out of here!" Harry yelled.

"Yeah, great." The two shouldered past Beatrice and raced to the front door only to find it locked. Mordechai cornered them, smirking.

"Jesus Mary and Joseph! "The power of christ compels you, the power of christ compels you, _the power of christ compels you._" They shrieked.

"Hey!" Sam yelled behind them. "Come and get it, you ugly son!" Mordechai appeared in front of Sam, slamming him into the wall with his axe pressed at his throat. Sam gasped for air, writhing against the blade as he struggled to turn to Ed and Harry. "Get out of here, now!"

"We're out of here!" Ed grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him from the house, howling in terror. Beatrice looked horrified and started forward but Dean grabbed her.

"Sam!" She screamed. Mordechai raised a hand to her in response, sending her flying across the room. She hit her head and fell still, a thin trickle of blood pouring down her forehead.

"Dean." Sam groaned.

"Hey!" Dean fished in his pocket and dropped lighter onto the wood. Mordechai disappeared and a plume of fire danced around the room, illuminating it with its healthy orange glow. "Get Bea and go!" He yelled. Sam nodded, rubbing his throat as he picked the unconscious Beatrice up in a bridal lift.

Dean followed him out. "Mordechai can't leave the house. We can't kill him, so we improvise."

"That's your solution? Burn the whole damn place to the ground?"

"Well, nobody will go in anymore. Mordechai can't haunt a house if there's no house to haunt. It's fast and dirty, but it works."

"What if the legend changes, and he's allowed to leave the house?"

"Well then, we'll just have to come back." Sam watched the house burn, cradling Beatrice in his arms. He smiled. It was over.

The Impala rocked uneasily as Sam drove. Beatrice sat in the back, Dean's head resting in her lap while she cried silently, too afraid to speak up. John groaned in pain, head in his hands. "Look, just hold on, alright? The hospital's only ten minutes away." Sam muttered.

"I'm surprised at you, Sammy. Why didn't you kill it? I thought we saw eye to eye on this? Killing the demon comes first, before me, before everything." John mused. Sam glanced back at Beatrice in the rear view mirror.

"No, sir. Not before everything. Look, we've still got the colt. We've still one one bullet. We just have to start over, alright? I mean, we already found the demon-" He was cut off when an eighteen wheeler truck slammed into the side of the Impala.

Sam Winchester slowly walked up to the grave, biting his bottom lip.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I should have looked to see what was happening. I… I should have told you how much you meant to me, how much I loved you. It's all my fault you're gone, I... Oh, god." He cut himself off crying. "I'm sorry."

Placing a single Lily flower onto the soft soil, he placed a kiss on the tombstone and walked away to where Dean was waiting for him by the hire car.

_Here lies Beatrice Elizabeth Wells_

_15th August 1987 - 24th May 2006_


	2. Chapter 2

The carnival had immediately struck her unsettling. It felt abandoned, eerie, and she could think of a thousand places she'd rather be. Beatrice Wells spoken to at least eight people, and none seemed to have any leads on this supposed killer clown. Perhaps it was one for the cops, as she'd thought before. She turned to go, but a voice got her attention and she froze like in a game of statues.

It was a voice so familiar to her that tears sprung into her eyes and she craned her neck to look over her shoulder. She had to know. She had to. "Check it out. Five oh." The voice mumbled. Her heart hammered as she looked around wildly and, sure enough, the two people she loved most in the world were stood talking a little way from her.

"Sam. Dean." Her voice cracked.

"B-Beatrice?" Sam gawped at her.

Dean watched her, his eyes narrowed in concentration. She opened her arms expectantly but instead, he splashed holy water down her front, causing her to scowl.

"That's no way to treat your best friend." She teased. Sam staggered forward. He pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her shoulder.

"I thought... You were... I..."

"Hey, it's okay Sammy. I'm right here." She rubbed his back, closing her eyes.

"I missed you so much." He whispered, pulling back.

"I missed you too, Oh God I missed you." She stood on her very tiptoes and kissed him, softly, slowly, her lips molding against his like they were made for each other.

"I love you." He muttered against her lips and slowly, parted from her. As he did, he froze, his every muscle tensing against his clothes. He was seeing for the first time how dead Beatrice looked. Every feature looked like it had been taken straight from a Tim Burton animation.

Her healthy olive complexion was ashen and her eyes were outlined with dark smudges of violet. She looked so frail he was worried her bones might burst through her skin. She saw the way he looked at her and wrapped her arms tightly around herself, suddenly insecure. "I know."

"How… How long have you been back?"

"I never left." She laughed bitterly and he looked at her, confused, so she went on. "Did it ever occur to you during those last few weeks that something wasn't quite right?" He said nothing. "I went out for food when I was cornered, at first I thought it was some dumb kid trying to mug me but I was wrong, it was a shifter, and I've been trapped in its fucking basement since then. Luckily whoever's house it was was a bit of a cold war nut. Plenty of food. I just don't understand why it didn't kill you."

"Jesus Christ." He kissed her again, this time more desperately, like he was afraid that if he left go, she'd disappear again. She almost felt like she might.

Dean stared at them, his green eyes wide and wet with tears. Beatrice released Sam and ran to the older, practically jumping into his arms. He caught her and brought her to his chest, whirling her around for a moment. "I fucking missed you," he mumbled against her hair.

"I missed you too." She whispered and got down, placing a hand on his cheek to take in all his features again. His every freckle, smile line, birthmark. "So, you guys workin' on this clown gig?" She said in a voice that sounded foreign to her own ears.

"Yeah. There were two more murders last night." Sam told her.

"Mhm, so I heard. Apparently they were ripped to shreds. And they had a little boy with them."

"Who fingered a clown." Sam nodded. Dean looked at him oddly.

"What?"

"Yeah, a clown, who apparently vanished into thin air. " He sighed. Beatrice shrugged.

"You guys, you know, looking for a cursed object is like trying to find a needle in a stack of needles. They could be anything." She said.

"Well, it's bound to give off EMF, so we'll just have to scan everything. "

"Oh, good, that's nice and... inconspicuous. " As she spoke, Beatrice noticed a poster advertising for jobs. "I guess we'll just have to blend in."

A man threw a knife at a large target as the trio entered the tent. "Excuse me, we're looking for a Mr. Cooper, have you seen him around?" Dean asked politely, smiling at the man. The man turned on his heels and removed his glasses with a steely glare. Blind.

"What is that, some kind of joke?!" He hissed.

"Oh. God, I'm… I'm sorry."

"You think I wouldn't give my eyeteeth to see Mr. Cooper? Or a sunset, or anything at all?" Dean turned to Sam and Beatrice with a scowl.

"You wanna give me a little help here?" He muttered so the man couldn't hear.

"Nope."

"Hey man, is there a problem?" A dwarf entered the ten, eyeing the three suspiciously.

"Yeah, this guy hates blind people." The blind man yelled, pointing his stick in Dean's direction.

"No, I don't, I-"

"Hey buddy, what's your problem?"

"Nothing, it's just a little misunderstanding."

"Little? What's wrong with you?!"

"No, no, no, no! I'm just… Could somebody tell me where Mr. Cooper is?" Dean cried as various people yelled at him. Beatrice burst out laughing, slapping her hands to her mouth to muffle her chuckles. Sam wrapped an arm around her her shoulders, looking pleased with himself.

"You kids picked a hell of a time to join up. Take a seat." Mr Cooper nodded to the pair of plastic molded chairs in front of his desk. Two were normal, whilst one was adorned with a clown face. Beatrice and Dean exchanged a glance, racing to beat Sam to the normal chairs. He scowled, gingerly perching in the clown chair. "We've got all kinds of local trouble."

"What do you mean?" Beatrice asked as if she didn't know.

"Oh, a couple of folks got themselves murdered. Cops always seem to start here first. So, you three ever worked the circuit before?"

"Yes sir, last year through Texas and Arkansas." Sam replied.

"Yeah. "

"Doing what? Ride jockeys? Butcher? ANS men?"

"Yeah, it's, uh, little bit of everything, I guess."

"You kids have never worked a show in your lives before, have you?"

"Nope. But we really need the work. Oh, and uh, Sam here's got a thing for the bearded lady."

"You see that picture? That's my daddy."

"You look just like him."

"He was in the business. Ran a freak show. Till they outlawed them, most places. Apparently displaying the deformed isn't dignified. So most of the performers went from honest work to rotting in hospitals and asylums. That's progress. I guess. You see, this place, it's a refuge for outcasts. Always has been. For folks that don't fit in nowhere else. But you three? You should go to school. Find a couple of girls. Have two point five kids. Live regular. Sweetheart," he turned to Beatrice, "you're a pretty girl. Pretty girl like you don't belong in a nasty place like this."

Beatrice scowled. "I think you'll find, _sir_, that I've seen places much nastier." Sam nodded in agreement, leaning forward in his seat.

"Sir? We don't want to go to school. And we don't want regular. We want this."

Dean glanced at Sam, nodding in sync with Beatrice who was still scowling at Mr Cooper.

As they left the office, Dean cast a knowing look at Sam. "Huh..."

"What?" Sam asked, frowning.

"That whole, uh, I don't want to go back to school thing. Were you just saying that to Cooper or were you, you know, saying it? Sam?"

"I don't know. "

"You don't know? I thought that once the demon was dead and the fat lady sings that you were gonna take off, head back to Wussy State."

"I'm having second thoughts."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I think. Dad would have wanted me to stick with the job."

"Since when do you give a damn what Dad wanted? You spent half your life doing exactly what he didn't want, Sam."

"Since he died, okay? Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, I don't have a problem at all." Dean slapped him on the back, smirking. Sam rolled his eyes, glancing at Beatrice who was smiling warmly up at him.

"Plus I have something to stay for now." He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and she leaned into his side.

"God, I love you." She muttered.

"I love you too." He grinned, kissing the top of her head. Beatrice's eyes lit up. She'd never been happier, but like all good things, it wasn't about to last.

Beatrice glared down at her 'Cooper Carnival' jumpsuit, scowling. "Sam, this thing is gross."

"Yeah, well hopefully you won't have to wear it for long." He muttered, scanning the EMF reader over the funhouse. As he did a polystyrene skeleton fell from the ceiling. It was presumably to scare the kids, but the pair didn't flinch. No one was about to get scared from that.

"I'm going to call Dean. I've got an idea." Pulling a battered cell from her pocket, Beatrice stabbed in Dean's number. After four rings he picked up.

"Hello?" She heard him say.

"Hey, man."

"What's the matter? You sound like you just saw a clown." He tased.

Beatrice rolled her eyes. "Very funny. Skeleton, actually."

"Like a real human skeleton?"

"In the funhouse. Listen, I was thinking. What if the spirit isn't attached to a cursed object, what if it's attached to its own remains?"

"Did the bones give off EMF?"

"Well, no, but-"

"We should check it out anyway. I'm heading to you." The dialling tone sounded and Beatrice slid the flip phone back into her pocket.

"Dean's on his way up." She informed Sam, who nodded.

Dean made an appearance suddenly at the mouth of the funhouse. Sam and Beatrice looked up, distracted from their inspection of the skeleton.

"What took you so long?" Sam asked, eyeing his brother impatiently.

"Long story."

"Mommy, look at the clown!" A little girl in the distance laughed, pointing to empty air.

"What clown?" The mother asked, looking confused. "Come on, sweetie, come on."

Beatrice sat in the back of the minivan, struggling to keep her eyes open as she awaited the signal from up front. "Dean, I cannot believe you told Papazian about the homicidal phantom clown." Sam was telling his brother.

"I told him an urban legend about a homicidal phantom clown, I never said it was real." Picking up a gun, Dean cocked it. Sam grabbed his hands and furiously pushed his hands down.

"Keep that down!"

"Oh, and get this. I mentioned the Bunker Brother's Circus in '81 and their, uh, evil clown apocalypse? Guess what." Dean went on, ignoring Sam.

"What?"

"Before Mr. Cooper owned Cooper Carnival, he worked for Bunker Brothers. He was their lot manager."

"So you think whatever the spirit's attached to, Cooper just brought it with him?"

"Something like that. I can't believe we keep talking about clowns." Beatrice was on the brink of sleep when Sam shook her awake.

"Bea, wake up!"

"I'm awake, what do you want?" She grumbled, sitting up. Sam pointed to the house. The small girl from earlier was talking to the phantom clown at the front door. Her eyes widened.

"Jesus..." The trio raced into the house where the girl was leading the clown to the foot of the stairs. Grabbing the girl, she held her still while Dean shot at the clown.

Nothing. Smiling, it turned to the door and raced into the yard before disappearing. The parents came rushing in. "What's going on out here?" The man raged, snatching his daughter from Beatrice.

"Oh my god, what are you doing to my daughter?!" The woman howled. Beatrice opened her mouth to explain but Sam grabbed her hand and they ran into the night.

Dean pulled the minivan up behind a large billboard. "You really think they saw our plates?" Beatrice yawned, clutching a flask of strong black coffee in one hand and a burnt out cigarette in the other. Dean shrugged, pulling some guns out of the back.

"I don't want to take the chance. Besides, I hate this friggin' thing anyway. Hey, when did you start smoking?" He noted. She shrugged.

"Just after I got back. Spending months in a locked basement does that to you."

"Well, it's bad for you."

"Dean. We hunt ghosts and demons. A cigarette won't do me any damage compared to what they can do."

"Good point. Well, one thing's for sure." He said as they walked down the road.

"What's that?" Sam asked, sliding his arm around Beatrice's shoulders.

"We're not dealing with a spirit. I mean, that rock salt hit something solid."

"Yeah, a person? Or maybe a creature that can make itself invisible?"

"Yeah, and dresses up as a clown for kicks? You see anything in Dad's journal?"

"Nope." Sam pulled a cell phone out of his pocket, frowning at the dimly lit screen.

"Who are you calling?" Dean leaned over to see.

"Maybe Ellen or that guy Ash'll know something. Hey, you think, uh, you think Dad and Ellen ever had a thing?" Beatrice glanced up at Sam, raising an eyebrow.

"Who are Ellen and Ash?"

"Long story," Dean smiled, "and no way!"

"Then why didn't he tell us about her?"

"I don't know, maybe they had some sort of falling out."

"Yeah. You ever notice Dad had a falling out with just about everybody?" Dean nodded as Sam lowered his phone. "Well, don't get all maudlin on me, man."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean this "strong silent" thing of yours, it's crap."

"Oh, god."

"I'm over it. This isn't just anyone we're talking about, this is Dad. I know how you felt about the man." Sam shrugged.

"You know what, back off, alright? Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want me to." Dean fired back with a glare.

"No, no, no, that's not what this is about, Dean. I don't care how you deal with this. But you have to deal with it, man. Listen, I'm your brother, alright? I just want to make sure you're okay."

"Dude, I'm okay. I'm okay, okay? I swear, the next person who asks me if I'm okay, I'm going to start throwing punches. These are your issues, quit dumping them on me!" Sam and Beatrice looked at Dean in surprise.

"What are you talking about?" Sam frowned.

"I just think it's really interesting, this sudden obedience you have to Dad. It's like, oh, what would Dad want me to do? Sam, you spent your entire life slugging it out with that man. I mean, hell, you, you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him. And now that he's dead, now you want to make it right? Well, I'm sorry Sam, but you can't, it's too little, too late. "

"Why are you saying this to him?" Beatrice snapped, seeing Sam's expression drop.

"Because I want him to be honest with himself about this. I'm dealing with Dad's death! I dealt with it when we thought you were dead! But he didn't, and dammit, he still isn't. Just look at him!"

"I'm going to call Ellen." Sam said quietly.

Around ten minutes later, Sam hung up the phone. "Rakshasa." He said simply, grinning.

"What's that?" Beatrice raised an eyebrow.

"Ellen's best guess. It's a race of ancient Hindu creatures, they appear in human form, they feed on human flesh, they can make themselves invisible, and they cannot enter a home without first being invited."

"So they dress up like clowns, and the children invite them in?" She suggested.

"Yeah."

"Why don't they just munch on the kids?"

"No idea. Not enough meat on the bones, maybe?"

"What else'd you find out?"

"Well, apparently, Rakshasas live in squalor. They sleep on a bed of dead insects."

"Nice." Beatrice grimaced.

"Yeah, and they have to feed a few times every twenty or thirty years. Slow metabolism, I guess." He went on.

"Well, that makes sense. I mean, the Carnival today, the Bunker Brothers' in '81."

"Right. Probably more before that."

"Hey Sam, who do we know that worked both shows?"

"Cooper?"

"Cooper."

"You know, that picture of his father, that looked just like him. "

"You think maybe it was him?"

"Well, who knows how old he is?"

"Ellen say how to kill him?"

"Legend goes, a dagger made of pure brass."

"I think I know where to get one of those."

"Well, before we go stabbing things into Cooper, we're going to want to make damn sure it's him." Sam said with a slight roll of the eyes he didn't think Beatrice would catch. She did.

"Oh, you're such a stickler for details, Sammy. All right, I'll round up the blade, you go check if Cooper's got bedbugs. " Dean sighed. When they reached the carnival, Dean went one way while Sam and Beatrice went another.

Before they went into the trailer, she grabbed his wrist, bringing him to a halt. "Sam?"

"What is it?" He raised an eyebrow.

"What Dean said earlier... About you not getting over my death. What did he mean by that?"

Sam stared at her, was silent, then shook his head. "He didn't mean anything, I was… Upset. That's all. It never really set in."

Beatrice didn't believe him for one second, but shrugged and kicked open the door to the trailer before pulling out a knife, ready to slice open the mattress.

"Uh, Bea?"

"Not now, Sam. Busy." She muttered as she stabbed the knife into the springy material. Behind her, the sound of a shotgun loading clicked.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Beatrice caught site of Dean in one of the funhouse mirrors and weaved her way over to him. "Hey! Hey. So, Cooper thinks we're Peeping Toms, but it's not him."

"Yeah, so I gathered. It's the blind guy, he's here somewhere."

"Well, did you get the-" Sam started but Dean cut him off.

"The brass blades? No, it's been one of those days."

"I got an idea. Come on." Beatrice grinned, pulling the two brothers towards the exit. She reached for a door but it slammed between them. She was caught on one side of the door while the brothers were on the other.

"Bea!" Sam yelled, bringing his fist to the wood.

"Sam! I'm fine. Sam, find the maze, okay?" As she tried to find them, she caught site of Sam and Dean pulling at one of the pipes. "Hey." She beamed.

"Hey! Where is it?" Dean asked.

"I don't know, I mean, shouldn't we see its clothes walking around?" A knife flew past her, pinning her leather jacket sleeve to the wall. Another pinned her other arm up, preventing her from moving. "Oh, come on!"

Sam and Dean managed to wriggle the pipe off the organ. "Bea, where is it?!" Dean repeated, swinging the pipe around wildly.

"I don't know." She squinted, seeing a vague shape behind them both.

"Dean, behind you! Behind you!" Without looking, the elder stabbed the pipe into the shadow. He looked over his shoulder and saw blood pouring from the still invisible creature. After managing to free herself, Beatrice jumped down from the wall. On the floor at her feet lay only a discarded clown costume and a bloody pipe. "I hate funhouses."

The Impala pulled up outside the roadhouse.

Beatrice, who had been sleeping in the back of the car, awoke to Sam and Dean discussing their next case. "Los Angeles," Dean was saying, "California."

"What's in L.A?" Beatrice yawned, sitting up.

"Young girl's been kidnapped by an evil cult."

"Yeah? Girl got a name?" Sam asked, looking equally tired as Beatrice. They'd been driving all night and from what she could gather, Sam hadn't slept at all.

"Katie Holmes."

"That's funny. And for you, so bitchy." Sam laughed, getting out of the car. He went to the back and helped Beatrice out. From the inside of the roadhouse there were the sounds of glass breaking and raised voices, causing her to raise an eyebrow in question. "Of course, on the other hand, catfight."

"I am your mother, I don't have to be reasonable!" Ellen was screaming at Jo, who had mascara streaked down her face as if she'd been crying.

Autumn glanced at Dean, her expression awkward. "You can't keep me here!"

"Oh, don't you bet on that, sweetie."

"What are you going to do, are you going to chain me up in the basement?"

"You know what, you've had worse ideas than that recently. Hey, you don't wanna stay, don't stay. Go back to school." Ellen raged.

"I didn't belong there! I was a freak with a knife collection."

"Yeah, and getting yourself killed on some dusty back road, that's where you belong?" Turning on her heels, Ellen glared at the trio.

"Guys, bad time." Beatrice nodded quickly.

"Yes, ma'am." As nice as Ellen was, she had learned quite quickly not to cross her.

"Yeah, we rarely drink before ten anyway." Dean added, nodding in agreement with his young companion.

"Wait. I wanna know what they think about this." Jo moved towards them, her eyes lighting up in what seemed to be hope. As she did a family entered the bar, all wearing yellow T shirts sporting the slogan, 'Nebraska is for Lovers'.

"I don't care what they think!" Ellen yelled. The father of the family looked slightly taken aback.

"Are you guys open?" He asked asked uneasily. The same time Jo screamed 'no', Ellen screamed 'yes'. "We'll just... check out the Arby's down the road." They left. The phone rang, a shrill, brisk sound that filled the wooden building. Jo glared at the phone as Ellen stalked over to answer it.

"Harvelle's. Yeah, preacher." She started.

"Three weeks ago a young girls disappears from a Philadelphia apartment," shoving a folder at Dean, Jo smirked, "take it, it won't bite."

"No, but your mom might." Dean scowled. Jo glared at him, tapping the folder again.

"And this girl wasn't the first. Over the past eighty years six women have vanished. All from the same building, all young blondes. Only happens every decade or two so cops never eyeball the pattern. So we're either dealing with one very old serial killer, or-"

"Who put this together? Ash?" Autumn frowned slightly, raising an eyebrow.

"I did it myself."

"Hmm." Dean rain his eyes over the folder again.

"I gotta admit. We hit the road for a lot less." Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Good. You like the case so much, you take it." Ellen snapped, slamming the phone back into the holder and whipping round like fire to face them.

"Mom!"

"Joanna Beth, this family has lost enough. And I won't lose you too. I just won't."

"I feel kind of bad, snaking Jo's case." Sam thought aloud as they wandered through the apartment building at lunchtime.

"Yeah, maybe she put together a good file. But could you see her out here working one of these things? I don't think so."

Dean sighed, pulling out an EMF reader. Beatrice nodded. "You getting anything?" She asked, peering at the reader. Dean shook his head slowly.

"No, not yet." As he ran the reader over the light switch, it let out its ungodly screech.

"What's that?" Sam muttered, running his hand along the switch.

"What?" Beatrice asked, eyeing the spot of the wall Sam was inspecting. He raised his hand to touch the black goo leaking from the plaster.

"Holy crap.." Sam raised an eyebrow, pulling his hand back.

Beatrice ran her hand over the black goo with a grimace. "That's ectoplasm. Well, Sam, I think I know what we're dealing with here. It's the Stay-Puff Marshmallow Man." Sam shot her a look.

"Bea, I've only seen this stuff, like, twice. I mean, to make this stuff you have to be one majorly annoyed spirit."

"All right, let's find this badass before he snags any more girls." Leaving the apartment, they paused. "Voices." Beatrice muttered. She dodged around the corner leaving the brothers to follow, which they did.

Dean's eyes widened in horror with the realization that the woman's voice belonged to Jo. "It's so convenient." She was saying.

"Yeah, it's a great building, fixed it up real nice. All the apartments come furnished, too." Another voice, presumably a landlord, had said in reply.

"It is so spacious. You know, my friend told me I absolutely have to come check it out, and I have to admit, she was right. You did a really good job with this place." Unable to hear the voices any longer without reacting, Dean stepped out.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"There you are, honey," she wrapped her arm around Dean's waist, "this is my boyfriend Dean, his buddy Sam and his girlfriend Bea."

"Good to meetcha. Quite a gal you've got here." The landlord winked.

"Oh yeah, she's a pistol." Dean said, forcing a smile.

"So, did you already check out that apartment? The one for rent." Jo added.

"Yeah. Yes. Loved it. Heh. Great flow."

"How'd you get in?"

"It was open."

"Now, Ed, um, when did the last tenant move out?" Jo continued, glaring at Dean.

"Oh, about a month ago. Cut and run, too. Stick me for the rent."

"Well. Her loss, our gain! 'Cause if Dean-o loves it, it's good enough for me."

"Oh, sweetie."

"We'll take it." Pulling out a wad of cash, the four followed the landlord into the apartment.

"I'll flip you for the sofa." Jo smirked, collapsing onto the corduroy couch that lined the wall of the lounge. Beatrice glared at her, leaning against the newly painted door frame. "Told her I was going to Vegas." Jo went on, seeing the look the other girl gave her.

"You think she's gonna buy that?" Beatrice liked Jo, but sometimes she could be a little dim. She shot her a look.

"I'm not an idiot. I got Ash to lay a credit card trail all the way to the casinos."

"You know, you shouldn't lie to your mom. Shouldn't be here either."

"Well, I am. So untwist your panties and deal with it."

"Where'd you get all that money from, anyways?" Sam interrupted.

"Working, at the Roadhouse."

"Hunters don't tip that well." Dean laughed.

"Well, they aren't that good at poker, either." Dean's phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket, pressing the 'answer' button. Before he could even speak, Ellen's voice erupted out of the earpiece with an unspeakable rage.

"Is she with you?!"

"Oh, hi Ellen." Dean smiled uncomfortably.

"She left a note she's in Vegas. I don't believe it for a second." He held the phone out to Jo.

'I'm telling her!' He mouthed. After a furious ten second muted argument, Dean sighed, defeated. "I haven't seen her." He mumbled.

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Well, please. If she shows up, you'll drag her butt right back here, won't you?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay. Thanks, honey." Dean snapped the phone shut, glaring at Jo who had a huge grin on her face. Beatrice couldn't help it. She burst out laughing, silenced only by Dean's glare.

Dean paced around the apartment, hands linked behind his back as Jo twirled a knife along the table. Beatrice watched them both, silent.

"This place was built in was originally a warehouse, converted into apartments a few months ago." Jo muttered, flicking through the blueprints laid out on the table before her.

"Yeah? What was here before 1924?" Dean asked.

"Nothing. Empty field."

"So, most likely scenario, someone died bloody in the building, and now he's back and raising hell." Sam suggested, sitting beside Beatrice.

"I already checked. In the past eighty two years, zero violent deaths. Unless you count a janitor who slipped on a wet floor," she turned to Dean, scowling, "would you sit down, please?" Dean rolled his eyes, but sat.

"So, have you checked police reports, county death records..."

"Obituaries, mortuary reports and seven other sources. I know what I'm doing

"I think the jury's still out on that one. Could you put the knife down?"

"Okay! So, uh, it's something else, then. Maybe some kind of cursed object that brought a spirit with it." Beatrice muttered. The unexpected sound of her voice made Sam jump.

"Well, we've got to scan the whole building. Everywhere we can get to, right?"

"Right. So. You and me, we'll take the top two floors. Bea and Sam, everything else."

"We'd move faster if we split up." Jo snapped at Dean, who smirked.

"Oh, this isn't negotiable."

Beatrice wrapped her hands around the paper cup, letting the warmth of the coffee inside warm her. "Hey, Bea?" Sam said as they left the diner.

"Yeah?"

"I really, really don't think you should be working this case." She frowned, coming to a halt.

"And why's that?"

"Well, from what we can gather this spirit likes blonde, beautiful women. You fit into that category quite nicely." Sam sighed, stopping a little way ahead of her, A small smile played at the corners of her lips.

"I'm not even a natural blonde." She said. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Bea, I love you. I lost you once, and I won't lose you again."

"Oh, Sammy..." Placing her coffee onto the bench beside her Beatrice pulled Sam into a tight hug. "I'm not going anywhere. There's shit I have left to do. Days to live."

"Promise me you'll be careful. Promise."

"Of course." Sam leaned down and kissed her softly, closing his eyes. Beatrice's arms snaked around his neck and they stayed like that for a while before she pulled back.

"I love you too." She picked up her coffee and with she slipped her free hand into his. As they reached the apartment, Beatrice frowned. More cop cars were surrounding the block.

She reached for the FBI badge hidden tucked inside her jacket pocket and showed it to one of the cops. "What happened here?" The cop shrugged.

"There's been another disappearance. Teresa Ellis." He eyed the badge carefully.

"Oh, well that's great." She grumbled, retreating back to Sam. "Another girl's gone missing." She informed him, putting her coffee down next to some kids as she pulled out her trusty notebook. Inside were various notes from past hunts.

"Excellent." Sam said sarcastically as the kids snatched up the coffee and ran. Sam followed Beatrice back into the apartment where Dean and Jo were sat talking.

"Where's the coffee?!" Dean demanded, glaring at her. She rolled her eyes.

"There are cops outside. Another girl disappeared." She said. Jo's eyes widened and she pulled out her own notes. Beatrice moved forward to join her. Dean left the room, then returned ten minutes later, frowning.

"Teresa Ellis, Apartment 2F. Boyfriend reported her missing around dawn." He announced.

"And her apartment?"

"Cracks all over the plaster, walls, ceiling. There was ectoplasm, too." Dean sighed, rubbing his forehead with two fingers.

"Well, between that and that tuft of hair I'd say this sucker's coming from the walls." Sam suggested with a nervous shrug.

"But who is it? Building's history is totally clean." Beatrice muttered, flipping through her book.

"Well, maybe we're looking in the wrong place." Jo slid a polaroid photograph over the table towards her.

"What do you mean?"

"Check this out." Jo said urgently but with a grin. Beatrice looked at the photo. It was the one from the website.

"An empty field?"

"It's where this building was built. Take a look at the one next door. The windows."

"Bars. We're next door to a prison?" Jo nodded, pulling out her phone. After about five minutes, she grinned.

"Thanks, Ash. And if you breathe a word of this to my mom... That's right. I will. With pliers," she hung up, "Okay. Moyamensing prison. Built in 1835, torn down in 1963. And get this. They used to execute people by hanging them in the empty field next door."

"Well, then, we need a list. All the people executed there."

"Ash is already on it."

Later that day, Sam was scrolling down a long list of names illuminated on the laptop screen. "A hundred fifty seven names?" He groaned. Dean nodded slowly.

"We've got to narrow that down."

"Yeah."

"Or else we're gonna be digging up a hell of a lot of stiffs." Sam scrolled down a little more, then paused, clicking on a name.

"Herman Webster Mudgett?" He read aloud. Jo looked at him.

"Yeah?"

"That's H. H. Holmes' real name." Beatrice said with an unusual amount of excitement.

"You've gotta be kiddin' me... Yep. Holmes was executed at Moyamensing, May 7, 1896."

"H. H. Holmes himself. Come on, I mean, what are the odds?" Beatrice said a little breathlessly. Jo looked at her questioningly.

"Who is this guy?"

"The term 'multi-murderer', they coined it to describe Holmes. He was America's first serial killer, before anybody knew what a serial killer was." She explained.

"Yeah, he confessed to twenty seven murders, but some put the death toll at over a hundred." Sam continued.

"And his victim flavor of choice? Pretty petite blondes. He, uh, he used chloroform to kill 'em" Beatrice added. She'd always been interested in the darker side of human psychology.

"Which is what I smelled in the hallway last night. At his place, cops found human remains, bone fragments, and long locks of bloody blonde hair." Dean grimaced, glancing from Beatrice to Jo. Both were petite blondes and fit the bill nicely.

"Boy, you sure know how to pick them." Beatrice laughed, looking at Jo.

"Well, we just find the bones, salt 'em and burn 'em, right?" She asked, frowning slightly.

"Well, it's not that easy. His body is buried in town, but it's encased in a couple tons of concrete." She said.

"What? Why?"

"The story goes that he didn't want anybody mutilating his corpse. 'Cause, you know, that's what he used to do."

"You know something. We might have an even bigger problem than that." Sam frowned, pulling Beatrice onto his lap protectively but she wasn't complaining.

"How does this get bigger?" Jo sighed.

"Holmes built an apartment building in Chicago. He called it the Murder Castle. The whole place was a death factory, they had, uh, trap doors, acid vats, quick line pits... He built these secret chambers inside the walls. He'd lock his victims in, keep them alive for days. Some he'd suffocate, others he'd let starve to death."

"So Teresa could still be alive. She could be inside these walls."

"We need sledge hammers, crowbars. We've got to smash these walls, anywhere thick enough to hide a girl. Jo and I will tackle the walls, you two go and get some more information out of the cops."

Dean nodded and led Jo from the room. Beatrice grinned at Sam. This was going to be interesting.

Beatrice had expected the corridors to be swarming with cops but to her surprise, they were empty. Her voice echoed, bouncing off the walls. "There's just something about this case. I don't know what it is, but-" She was cut off as a pair of cold hands wrapped around her ankles and pulled. She screamed. "Sam!" He watched helplessly as the hands pulled her into the ventilation system and she disappeared into the darkness. His eyes widened in shock.

"Beatrice!" He lunged forward, but as he entered the vent he was horrified to see she was gone. He raced back to the apartment where Dean was pacing back and forth, a little manically."Dean! Dean, it's got Beatrice." Sam yelled.

"What?! Oh god, it's got Jo as well." He groaned, running a hand through his hair.

"How'd it happen?" Sam asked, going pale.

"I wasn't with her, I left her alone. Dammit! And Bea?"

"It pulled her through the vents... Dean, we have to find them. I… I promised to keep her safe. I can't lose her again, dammit!"

"We'll find them, I promise Sammy."

"Where?!"

"In the walls..." He said uncomfortably. Sam shuddered at the thought of Beatrice locked up within the walls, maybe dead. How did he know she wasn't? "We'd better friggin' think fast." Dean sighed as his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket.

"Yeah?"

"You lied to me. She's there."

"Ellen-"

"No, Ash told me everything. Man's a genius, but he folds like a cheap suit. Now you put my damn daughter on the phone."

"She's gonna have to call you back, she's taking care of, uh, feminine business."

"Yeah, right. Where is she?" There was a beat. "Dean, _where is she_?"

"Look, we'll get her back."

"Get her back? Back from what?"

"The spirit we're hunting, it took her and Bea."

"Oh my god."

"She'll be okay, I promise."

"You promise? That is not the first time I've heard that from a Winchester."

"What?"

"If anything happens to her..."

"It won't. I won't let it. Ellen, I'm sorry, I really am."

"I'm taking the first flight out. I'll be there in a few hours." The dialling tone sounded.

"Don't beat yourself up, Dean. There's nothing you could have done."

"Tell me you've got something." Dean said, ignoring Sam's reassurance.

"Uh, maybe. Look. You look at the layout of the Holmes murder castle, there's all the torture chambers inside the walls, right?"

"Right."

"But there's one we haven't considered yet. The one in this basement."

"This building doesn't have a basement."

"You're right, it doesn't. But I just noticed this. Beneath the foundation, it looks like part of an old sewer system that hasn't been used for-"

"Let's go." Dean didn't wait for him to finish. He grabbed his jacket and books then left, leaving Sam to follow.

Beatrice awoke in a small space, a damp musty smell filling the air. She panicked for a moment, her chest heaving with every labored breath she took but when her eyes adjusted to the poor lighting and she could see a little, she calmed down. Beside her on one of the small walls was a slit, allowing her to peek out into the chamber. More compartments like the one she was in surrounded a circular wall. "Hello?" She called timidly, only half hoping she'd hear a reply.

"Beatrice?" A weak voice yelled.

"Jo!"

"Oh god, Bea, where are we?"

"I... I don't know!"

"Is... Is anybody there?" A tiny voice cried, causing Beatrice to jump.

"Your name's Teresa?" She called back.

"Yes."

"This won't make you feel better, but we're here to rescue you."

"Oh god. He's out there, he's gonna kill us!"

"No, he won't. We're getting out. My friends are looking for us, they'll find us." Of course, she hoped it was true. God knows where Sam and Dean where. Would they even find her and Jo? She hoped they would. As she thought, footsteps approached.

"Oh god, it's him!" Teresa moaned in horror.

"Shh! Just be quiet!" It fell silent. It really gave her a chance to focus on the musty smell. Beatrice felt tears running down her cheeks which she'd not noticed before. A hand burst into her compartment suddenly and grabbed her hair. She screamed, struggling against it. The hand recoiled, taking a clump of her hair with it.

"You're so pretty. So beautiful." The spirit soothed her, stroking her hand through the bars. Beatrice groaned, repulsed as she struggled to move away.

"Go to hell!" She stabbed her knife into his hand. It jerked back, howling in agony. "How do you like that? Pure iron." She laughed slightly. It fell silent again. "Is he gone?"

"I don't know." Jo muttered back. As she spoke, the hand reached through Beatrice's compartment again and clamped over her mouth. It was cold and clammy, and covering her airways. She cried out, her screams muffled by his palm. She gagged, writhing under him.

"Shhh." He whispered. It was going dark. She couldn't breath, and her vision was swimming.

"Hey!" Someone yelled but she was too weak to work out who it was. There were sounds of a gun and the hand disappeared. Beatrice gasped for air, rolling against the compartment. "Bea!"

"Sam!" She screamed. "In here!"

"Jo!" Another voice called. Dean. A crowbar poked into Beatrice's compartment and it wiggled for a moment until it wrenched the side away.

"Oh god, Beatrice." He helped her out, holding her tightly. She rested her head against his chest, letting out a choked sob.

"Sam…"

"It's okay, I'm here. I'm not leaving you." He muttered, kissing the top of her head.

"Sam, Teresa's in here. You need to find her." She muttered, pulling back from him. He nodded, picking up the crowbar which he'd discarded on the ground. Minutes later and Teresa was safe in Dean's arms, crying.

"You all right?" Dean asked Jo, who nodded slowly.

"Been better. Let's get the hell out of here before he comes back."

"Actually, I don't think you're leaving here just yet."

"What?"

"Remember when I said you being bait was a bad plan? Now it's kind of the only one we got." Jo opened her mouth to speak but Beatrice stepped forward.

"I'll do it." Sam looked at her, horrified.

"What? Bea-"

"No. Jo's been through enough. It's not the first time I've done something like this." Sam looked to Dean for help, but his older brother nodded.

"Alright." Jo grinned at Beatrice.

"Thanks." As Beatrice went to speak, there came a loud yelp.

"Please, someone! Let me out!" Another girl howled. Beatrice took the crowbar from Sam and opened the compartment where the voice floated from herself. Inside a girl was curled up, who looked so much like Beatrice they could have been twins Sam stared at the girl. "Grace?"

"Sam!" The girl scrambled from the box to her feet, running to his arms. "Oh _Sam_, I missed you so much, I-" She cut herself off by kissing him. Anger flared in the pit of Beatrice's stomach and she pulled the girl off Sam by her shoulder.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" She demanded.

"That's my boyfriend!" The girl said back.

"_Your _boyfriend? Sam?" Her gaze turned to Sam. Anger blazed in her dark eyes. "Explain. Now." Her hand hovered over her gun, and he noticed.

"Is this really the time-" Dean started but Beatrice cut him off.

"It's as good a time as any!"

"Bea, I… I should have told you," He said desperately. "When you were gone, I… But I swear, I broke it off. I did." He trailed off. Beatrice narrowed her eyes, but nodded.

"Alright. I understand." She breathed out, but the girl was still staring at her. A small smirk tugged at the corners of her lips.

"You must be Beatrice. Beatrice Wells?"

"How do you-"

How do I know? I'm surprised you don't." The girl laughed, "I'm your sister."

"But… My sisters are dead." Her expression hardened suddenly and she turned on Dean. "Dean, get Jo, Teresa and Grace out. We need to get Holmes."

"Bea-"

"Now!" Too shocked the argue, he led the three girls out. Sam stared at her.

"Beatrice, what's-"

"It wasn't just me and Felicity." She said quietly. "At first, there were three of us. Felicity, myself, and Grace. She… She was my twin. But when we were ten there was an accident, and they told us," she trailed off to take a deep breath, "they told us she was dead and for all this time…" She shook her head and sat down in the middle of the floor, waiting for Sam to put the plan into action.

Beatrice stared down at the newly cemented manhole, chewing her bottom lip in thought.

She didn't care that Sam had seen someone else. Hell, she'd probably have done the same. But for nearly eight years she'd believed her twin sister, the closest person in the world to her, to be dead. And now she was back and she was different, there was something dark about her eyes and Beatrice just didn't know how to react. "Beatrice?" Sam said gently. "Bea I'm sorry, I didn't know. I-"

"It's fine. Just… Just leave it. Please." She went back to the Impala and got into the back, blinking back tears. Her sister... Her twin sister. As much as she didn't want to admit it, Beatrice knew that it wouldn't be the last she saw of Grace Wells.

The trio were leaning on the hood of the Impala, talking in hushed voices when Jo stormed out. She shot Dean a look and kept walking so he followed. "That bad, huh?"

"Not right now." Jo muttered.

"What happened? Hey, talk to me." He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder but she jerked her arm back.

"Get off me!"

"Sorry. See you around." Dean held up his hands and turned to go, but Jo stopped him.

"Dean. It turns out my dad had a partner on his last hunt. Funny, he usually worked alone; this guy did too, but... I guess my father figured he could trust him." She laughed bitterly, shaking her head, "mistake. Guy screwed up, got my dad killed."

"What does this have to do with-"

"It was your father, Dean."

"What?"

"Why do you think John never came back? Never told you about us? Because he couldn't look my mom in the eye after that, that's why."

"Jo-"

"Just... just get out of here. Please, just leave." She turned her back to him and let out a choked sob. Dean nodded and got into the car.

"Dean, what happened?" Bea asked gently.

"My dad was a screw up. That's what happened." He fell silent and woke up the engine, driving into the horizon.

_Dean maneuvered down the dimly lit corridor, gun held firmly to his chest. He entered a room, frowning. Inside a young man was tied to a chair surrounded by three other people. Sam and Beatrice were nowhere in sight. "No, no, no, no, no, you're not gonna… No, I swear! It's not in me!" The tied up boy howled, struggling against his restraints._

_"Oh God. We're all gonna die." A young blonde moaned in horror. _

_"Maybe he's tellin' the truth." A tall black man muttered. _

_"He's not him, not anymore." Dean snapped. _

_"No, stop it! Stop it! Ask her, ask the doctor! It's not in me!"_

_"I just . . . I can't tell. " Another woman looked horrified and she hid her face behind her hands. Dean cocked the pistol. _

_"No, please, don't. Don't. I swear, I-"_

_"I got no choice."_

_"I swear, it's not in me, it's not in me! Don't, don't. Please!" Dean fired twice. _

Sam awoke on the motel floor, groaning softly as a sharp pain shot through his head. "Sam? Oh god, you're okay." He heard Beatrice sigh in relief.

The door opened and Dean came in, clutching various groceries. He frowned at his younger brother who was still on the floor. "Sam?"

"No.."

Beatrice shifted, helping him sit. The dreams were getting worse, she could tell. He didn't like to talk about it but she saw it in his eyes. Whatever was happening to him, it was happening to her too. It was rare, and hadn't really happened since the Bloody Mary case where she'd set her Demons to rest but there was something not quite right. She felt an energy, a power, inside her. It scared her.

Later, Beatrice sat in the back of the Impala with Sam laid beside her, his head on her lap. She played absentmindedly with his hair while she half listened to the GPS' robotic voice. "Continue on O-R Two-Two-Four West."

"There are only two towns in the US named Rivergrove." Sam muttered to Dean.

"How come you're so sure it's the one in Oregon?"

"There was a picture. Crater Lake."

"Okay, what else?"

"I saw a dark room, some people, and a guy tied to a chair."

"And I ventilated him?"

"Yeah. You thought there was something inside him."

"What, a demon? Was he possessed?" Beatrice asked with a frown.

"I don't know."

"Well, all your weirdo visions are always tied to the Yellow-Eyed Demon somehow… So was there any black smoke? Did we try to exorcise it?" Dean pushed.

"No. Nothing, you just plugged him, that's it."

"Well, I'm sure I had a good reason."

"I sure hope so."

"What does that mean? I mean, I'm not 'gonna waste an innocent man. I wouldn't!"

"I never said you would!"

"Fine!" An uncomfortable silence settled before Sam spoke again.

"_Fine_. Look, we don't know what it is. But whatever it is, that guy in the chair's a part of it. So let's find him, and see what's what. "

"Fine."

"Fine!"

The next morning, the car pulled up beside a billboard advertising Crater Lake. A large wooden shop lay a little way ahead of them so they got out and walked towards it. A man was sat outside cleaning a shotgun. Beatrice smiled charmingly at him. "Good morning."

"Good morning. Can I help you?"

"Yeah," she pulled out her badge, "Eliza Cotton, U.S Marshall."

"What's this about?"

"We're looking for someone." She nodded her head towards the brothers who nodded in agreement.

"A young man, early twenties," Sam thought for a minute before speaking again, "he'd have a, a thin scar right below his hairline."

"What'd he do?"

"Well, nothing. We're actually looking for someone else, but we think this young man could help us." Beatrice smiled again, the smile that had driven all the boys crazy in high school. It usually worked.

"Yeah, he's not in any kind of trouble or anything. Well, not yet." Dean shrugged.

"So can you help us?"

"Duane Tanner's got a scar like that. But I know him. Good kid, keeps his nose clean." The man said finally, eyeing the trio suspiciously.

"Oh, I'm sure he does. Um. You know where he lives?" Beatrice said, tucking her hair behind her ear to reveal a faded purple scar Sam hadn't noticed before. The man nodded.

"With his family, up Aspen Way."

"Thank you." She motioned for the other two to go, which they did. She followed. As they walked, Beatrice knocked her shoulder into a large telephone pole. She scowled, brushing the dust from her jacket, then paused. A single word was carved into the wood.

_Croatoan_

"Hey." She muttered. Sam moved to stand beside her while Dean hung about beside the curb.

"Croatoan?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah. Roanoke? Lost colony? Ring a bell? Dean, did you pay any attention in history class?"

"Yeah! Shots heard 'round the world, How bills become laws..."

"That's not school, that's Schoolhouse Rock."

"Whatever."

"Roanoke was one of the first English colonies in America, late 1500s?"

"Oh yeah, yeah, I do remember that. The only thing they left behind was a single word carved in a tree. Croatoan."

"Yeah. And I mean, there were theories, Indian raid, disease, but nobody knows what really happened. They were all just gone. I mean, wiped out overnight." Beatrice gingerly touched the wood with her index finger. "You don't think that's what's going on here? I mean..."

"Whatever I saw in my head, it sure wasn't good. But what do you think could do that?"

"Well, I mean, like Dean said, all of your visions are always tied to the Yellow-Eyed Demon somehow, so..."

"We should get help. Bobby, uh, Ellen maybe?" Sam suggested. Dean nodded, overhearing Sam's words.

"Yeah, that's a good idea."

"I'll do it." Beatrice offered, fishing her cell out of her pocket. "I don't have a signal." She scowled, putting the phone back.

"I don't either." Sam sighed. Dean went over to a payphone and picked it up. He shook his head.

"Line's dead. I'll tell you one thing. If I was gonna massacre a town, that'd be my first step." They strolled over to Aspen Way where a row of neat white-picket-fence houses stood.

Approaching the door, Beatrice knocked. Sam was by her side holding her hand. The door jerked open a minute later and a teenage boy with dark spiked hair was stood there.

"Yeah?" The boy asked, running his eyes over Beatrice's body. She rolled her eyes and flashed her badge, letting go of Sam's hand to look a little more professional.

"We're looking for Duane Tanner; he lives here, right?"

"Yeah, he's my brother."

"Can we talk to him?"

"Oh, he's not here right now. Yeah, he went on a fishing trip up by Roslyn Lake."

"Your parents home?" Sam asked, glancing at Beatrice who shrugged.

"Yeah, they're inside."

"Jake, who is it?" A man from inside called.

"Hi, U.S. Marshals, sir, we're looking for your son Duane." Beatrice said as a man, presumably the father, came to the doorway. He gave her the same hungry look as his son and she shuddered.

"Why? He's not in trouble, is he?"

"No, no, no, no. We just need to ask him a couple of routine questions, that's all. When's he due back from his trip?"

"I'm not sure."

"Well, maybe your wife knows."

"No, I don't know, she's not here right now."

"Your son said she was."

"Did I?" Jake smiled. His smile made her uneasy.

"She's getting groceries. So, when Duane gets back, there's a number where he can get a hold of you?" Mr Tanner continued.

"Oh no, we'll just check in with you later." She flashed the pair a fake smile and led Sam back to the Impala where Dean was waiting for them.

"That was kind of creepy, right? A little too Stepford?" Sam said.

"Big time." They motioned for Dean to follow them and made their way to the back of the house where she peered through a small window. Beatrice's eyes widened. "Guys, arm yourselves. We've got a hostage, the mom by the looks of things." She muttered, checking her pistol was loaded.

Dean brought his foot into the glass door. It smashed upon impact. As the trio ran in, Mr Tanner staggered towards Beatrice, knife raised. At least she knew that look wasn't lust, but rather, a lust for her blood. She didn't know why that was more comforting.

Dean reacted before she did, shooting the man in the chest. Jake dived for the door. Sam went to shoot him but hesitated, giving him enough time to escape.

The only sounds in the kitchen were Beverley Tanner's muffled screams.

The clinic was dark as they entered. Sam had Beverley Tanner balanced carefully in his arms and Beatrice stood a little way behind them. "Hello? Hello? We need a doctor here!" Sam yelled, sitting Beverley into one of the waiting room's faux leather seats. A young blonde rushed out.

"Mrs. Tanner, what happened?"

"She's been attacked." Sam answered, helping Beverley stand again. The blonde turned back to the door.

"Doctor Lee?"

"Bring her in." Another woman, visibly more mature than the blonde came into the waiting room, rubbing her hands dry with a cloth. Sam nodded.

"Okay." He guided Beverley into the Doctor's office and helped her to lay on the bed. Dean entered the clinic behind them, dragging Mr Tanner under his arms.

"Is that-" Doctor Lee started but Beatrice cut her off.

"Mr Tanner."

"Was he attacked too?"

"Uh... No, actually, he did the attacking and then he got himself shot."

"Shot?"

"Yeah."

"And who are you?"

"U.S marshall." Dean said at the same time as Beatrice. "I'd show you my badge, but..." He motioned to Tanner who he was still supporting.

"Oh. Sorry. Bring him back here."

Beatrice paced the waiting room anxiously, desperate for news on Beverley's condition. It infuriated Dean, but he stayed quiet. "Those guys were whacked out of their gourds." Beatrice muttered, more to herself, but both brothers nodded anyway.

"What do you think? Multiple demons, mass possession?" Sam asked. Dean shrugged in reply.

"If it is a possession there could be more. I mean, God knows how many, it could be like a friggin' Shriner convention." He muttered, collapsing into one of the chairs designed for patients waiting to be seen.

"Great." Beatrice muttered, finally perching on the arm of the chair beside him. Sam stayed standing. "Of course, that's one way to wipe out a town, you take it from the inside."

"I don't know, Bea. We didn't see any of the demon smoke with Mr. Tanner, or any of the other usual signs."

"Well, whatever. Something turned him into a monster. And you know if you had taken out the other one there'd be one less to worry about."

She shot him a look, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, alright? I hesitated, Bea, it was a kid!"

"No, it was an 'it'. Not the best time for a bleeding heart, Sam." As she spoke, Doctor Lee came from the lab into the waiting room. "How's the patient?" She asked grimly.

"Terrible! What the hell happened out there?" The Doctor demanded to know, glaring at each of them in turn.

"We don't know." Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah? Well, you just killed my next door neighbour."

"We didn't have a choice."

"Maybe so, but we need the county Sheriff. I need the coroner-"

"Phones are down." Sam interrupted her, sitting in on the table beside Beatrice's chair.

"I know, I tried. Tell me you have a police radio in the car?" The doctor said hopefully.

"Yeah we do. But it crapped out just like everything else."

"I don't understand what is happening."

"How far is it to the next town?" Beatrice asked, her eyebrows raised in question.

"It's about forty miles down to Sidewinder."

"All right, I'm gonna go down there, see if I can find some help," Dean grinned, clapping Sam on the shoulder, "My partners will stick around, keep you guys safe."

"Safe from what?"

"We'll get back to you on that." Beatrice muttered as Dean left the building.

Beatrice and Sam leaned against the counter, staring idly at Mr Tanner's unmoving body. "Huh." Lee said suddenly, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Beatrice glanced at her, watching her stare into the microscope.

"What?"

"His lymphocyte percentage is pretty high. His body was fighting off a viral infection."

"Really? What kind of virus?"

"Can't say for sure."

"Do you think an infection could have made him act like that?" Sam asked, speaking for the first time since Dean's departure.

"None that I've ever heard of. I mean, some can cause dementia, but not that kind of violence. And besides, I've never heard of one that did this to the blood."

"Did what?"

"There's this... Weird residue. If I didn't know better I'd say it was sulphur."

"Sulphur.." Beatrice repeated. She struggled to repress a chuckle. She'd been right about the demons. Sam glanced at Beverley who was still huddled on the chair. Her eyes flickered towards the doctor, filled with fright and horror.

"I don't understand. Are you saying my husband and Jake had a disease?" She croaked. Lee shrugged.

"That's what we're trying to find out. Now, during the attack, do you remember… Did you have any direct contact with their blood?"

"Oh my God. You don't think I've got this virus, do you?"

"Beverley, I don't know what to think. But with your permission, we'll take a blood sample." Beverley nodded and laid her hand gently on Lee's. The lab was silent and Lee moved towards a stack of syringes, but Beverley grabbed the Doctor's wrist and twisted.

Sam jumped up from the seat and rushed to Lee's aid but Beverley threw him into a glass cabinet with shattered upon impact. Beatrice's eyes narrowed. She cracked her knuckles and tackled Beverley. The two struggled for a moment, but Beatrice managed to straddle her and she wrapped her hands around the older woman's throat, squeezing until she passed out.

Sam got shakily to his feet. "Thanks."

"No problem." She quickly fixed her hair and dragged Beverley into the cupboard, barricading the door. Pam, the young blonde from before, had pressed herself up against the door and was wailing.

"What if we all have it? What if we all go crazy?" She howled. Beatrice rolled her eyes.

"You've got to stay calm. All we can do is wait. The Marshal's bringing help." She snapped, but she was starting to doubt that Dean _would_ bring help.

"I can't, I . . . I've got to go."

"Pam!" Lee looked up from the microscope again, scowling.

"No, you don't understand. My boyfriend's out there, I gotta make sure he's okay." She sped from the lab, quickly followed by Sam and Beatrice.

"All right, wait, wait. Please. Look, I know you're upset, all right? But it's safer if you stay here for now. Help is coming." Sam said desperately, grabbing her wrist. The sound of the Impala's engine sounded outside and Beatrice grinned.

"There they are."

"Sammy? Open up." Dean said from outside. Sam opened the door open to reveal Dean and Mark who were both armed.

"Did you guys uh… Get to a phone?" Beatrice asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Road block." Dean muttered, turning to Mark, "I'm gonna have a word. Doc's inside." Mark nodded and went into the lab, closing the door.

"What's going on out there, Dean?" Beatrice asked, folding her arms across her chest.

"Man, I don't know, I feel like Chuck Heston in the Omega Man, I mean, Sarge is the only sane person I could find. What are we dealing with, do you know?"

"Yeah. Doc thinks it's a virus." Sam said.

"Okay, great. What do you think?"

"I think she's right."

"Really?"

"Yeah. And I think the infected are trying to infect others with blood-to-blood contact. Oh, but it gets better. The uh, the virus? Leaves traces of sulphur in the blood."

"A demonic virus?"

"Yeah, more like demonic germ warfare. At least it explains why I've been having visions."

"It's like a biblical plague." Beatrice muttered, glancing up.

She combed her fingers through her hair and, after pressing a very quick kiss to Sam's cheek, returned to the lab.

Sam followed Beatrice into the lab and sat beside her, staring at the closet where she had locked Beverley Tanner. He was often thankful to have a badass girlfriend.

"Yeah. You don't know how right you are, Dean. I've been poring through John's journal, found something about the Roanoke colony." She was saying to Dean.

"And?"

"John always had a theory about Croatoan. He thought it was a demon's name. Sometimes known as Deva or sometimes Reesha. A demon of plague and pestilence."

"Well, that, that's terrific. Why here, why now?"

"I have no idea. But Dean, who knows how far this thing can spread? We gotta get out of here, we gotta warn people." She sighed, snapping the journal shut.

From the other side of the lab, Mark jerked the closet door open to reveal Beverley, whimpering and tied up in the corner.

"They've got one! In here!"

He yelled. Dean shot a look at Beatrice, who grinned innocently. He stood and made his way over to the closet.

"What do you mean?"

"The wife, she's infected." Sam answered, sitting beside Beatrice.

"We've gotta take care of this. We can't just leave her in there. My neighbors, they were strong. The longer we wait, the stronger she'll get." Mark muttered, eyeing Beverley suspiciously. Barely hesitating, Dean pulled a gun out from his inside pocket and cocked it before stalking into the closet.

"You're gonna kill Beverly Tanner?" Pam shrieked, horrified. Beatrice rolled her eyes.

"Doctor, could there be any treatment? Some kind of cure for this?" Sam asked anxiously, clearly having the same sort of opinion on Beverley's murder as Pam.

"Can you cure it?" Dean repeated, glancing at Lee. She stared at him, helpless.

"For God's sake, I don't even know what 'it' is!"

"I told you, it's just a matter of time before she breaks through." Mark said gravely, cracking his knuckles. Beverley whimpered.

"Just leave her in there, you can't shoot her like an animal!"

"Sam." Beatrice said quietly, feeling the situation quite barbaric. "Are you sure about this?" He nodded slowly.

"I think..." Guns ready, Mark and Dean advanced on the woman.

"Mark, what are you doing? Mark, it's, it's them! They locked me in here, they, they tried to kill me! They're infected, not me! Please, Mark! You've known me all your life! Please!" Beverley screamed, backing up against the wall.

"You sure she's infected?" Dean muttered.

Sam nodded, face twisted in distress. As Mark stepped back and Beatrice hid her face in Sam's chest, Dean fired twice.

The curtains were drawn. Beatrice, feeling curious as to what was happening outside, peered out and instantly regretted it. A group of people had gathered in front of the building and were holding an array of weapons, from guns to crossbows. One of them made eye contact with her so she dropped the curtain and staggered back from the window.

Behind her, Sam pulled out a large hunting knife and ran his fingers gingerly along the blade as if checking it out. Dean loaded his gun. Back in the lab, Pam dropped a vial of blood.

"Oh god! Is there any on me? Am I okay?" She screamed. Lee rushed to comfort her.

"You're clean, you're okay."

"Why are we staying here? Please, let's just go!" The young blonde begged, a choked sob coming from somewhere within her throat.

"No, we can't, because those things are everywhere." Beatrice muttered. Pam slid down the wall, crying into her hands.

"Oh god..."

"Hey, shh... Shh." Lee soothed her, hugging her tightly.

"She's right about one thing," Sam said quietly, "we can't stay here. We've gotta get out of here, get to the Roadhouse? Somewhere. Let people know what's coming."

"Yeah, good point. Night of the Living Dead didn't exactly end pretty."

"Well, I'm not sure we've got a choice. Lots of folks up here are good with rifles. Even with all your hardware we're easy targets. So unless you've got some explosives..." Mark snapped. Beatrice glanced up at the shelf filled with odd medicines and pills and a thought struck her.

"We could make some." Moving over to the shelf she took down a bottle of Potassium Chloride, but as she did there was a harsh rapping on the front door.

"Hey! Let me in, let me in! Please!" An older teenage boy was at the door, crying heavily.

"It's Duane Tanner!" Mark shouldered past the three hunters and pulled the door open, allowing Duane into the building.

"Thank god."

"Duane, you okay?"

"That's the guy that I, uh.." Dean clicked his tongue as if mimicking a gun shot. Beatrice shuddered. She could hardly bare the thought of Dean killing an innocent man.

"Yeah." Sam muttered.

"Who else is in here?" Duane asked. Beatrice grabbed his arm with a scowl.

"Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there, chief. Hey Doc! Give Duane a good once-over, would you?"

"Pam?" Lee came into the waiting room.

"Who are you?!" Duane yelled at Beatrice, his eyes wide with fear.

"Never mind who I am. Doc."

"Yeah, okay."

"Duane. Where you been?" Beatrice perched upon the sideboard, eyeing the boy suspiciously with both eyebrows raised. "Fishing trip, right?"

"On a fishing trip up by Roslyn. I came back this afternoon. I... I saw Roger McGill being dragged out of his house by people we know! They started cutting him with knives! I ran, I've been hiding in the woods ever since. Has anybody seen my mom and dad?"

"Awkward..." Dean laughed nervously.

"You're bleeding. Where'd you get that?" Beatrice snarled.

"I was running, I must have tripped."

"Tie him up, there's rope in there."

"Wait-"

"Sit down!" She pulled out a gun and aimed it at Duane's head.

"I'm sorry, Duane, she's right. We've gotta be careful." Mark sighed. Beatrice threw the gun to Dean who caught it with ease.

"Careful? About what?"

"Did they bleed on you?" Beatrice demanded to know, sending Duane a look that sent involuntary shivers down his spine.

"No, what the hell? No!"

"Doc? Any way to know for sure, any test?"

"I've studied Beverley's blood work backwards and forwards." Lee muttered. She looked very uneasy watching Beatrice interrogate Duane. She didn't look the angry sort.

"My mom!"

"It took three hours for the virus to incubate. The sulfur didn't appear in the blood until then, so… No, there'd be no way of knowing. Not until after Duane turns."

"Dean, I gotta talk to you. Now." Sam muttered to his brother. Beatrice trailed after them. "This is my vision, Dean. It's happening." Sam said urgently as soon as they reached the waiting room.

"Yeah, I figured."

"You can't kill him, all right? Not yet. We don't know if he's infected or not."

"Well, I think we're pretty damn sure. Guy shows up out of nowhere, he's got a cut on his leg, his whole family's infected?"

"All right, then we should keep him tied up, and we should wait and see."

"For what? For him to Hulk out and infect somebody else? No thanks, can't take that chance," Dean turned to go but was stopped by Beatrice's hand on his chest, her eyes burning into his, "hey look, guys, I'm not happy about this, okay? But it's a tough job and you know that."

"It's supposed to be tough, Dean. We're supposed to struggle with this, that's the whole point." Beatrice snapped.

"What does that buy us?"

"A clear conscience, for one!"

"Well, it's too late for that." He turned to leave but Beatrice pushed harder on his chest, restricting his movement.

"What the hell's happened to you?" She said, shaking her head.

"What?"

"You might kill an innocent man, and you don't even care! You don't act like yourself anymore, Dean. Hell, you know what? You're acting like one of those things out there."

"Mm-hmm." He pushed Beatrice a third time and she stumbled back. Both Sam and Beatrice rushed towards him, but he slammed the hall door and locked it. Sam groaned audibly, jiggling the lock.

"Open the damn door, Dean! Don't do it, Dean! Don't!"

Dean maneuvered down the dimly lit corridor, gun held firmly to his chest. He entered a room, frowning. Inside Duane was tied to a chair surrounded by the other three.

"No, no, no, no, no, you're not gonna... No, I swear! It's not in me!" The tied up man howled, struggling against his restraints.

"Oh God. We're all gonna die." Pam moaned in horror.

"Maybe he's tellin' the truth." Mark muttered.

"He's not him, not anymore." Dean snapped.

"No, stop it! Stop it! Ask her, ask the doctor! It's not in me!"

"I just... I can't tell. " Lee looked horrified and she hid her face behind her hands. Dean cocked the pistol.

"No, please, don't. Don't. I swear, I-"

"I got no choice."

"I swear, it's not in me, it's not in me! Don't, don't. Please!" Dean aimed the gun. A tense silence filled the room, broken only by Duane's sobs. Finger hovering above the trigger, Dean sighed, lowering the gun.

"Damn it!" Duane panted in relief as Dean left the room.

Beatrice's eyes lit up as Dean came back into the waiting room. "I _knew_ you wouldn't do it!"

Lee came into the lab, her hands stuffed in her pockets. "It's been over four hours. Duane's blood is still clean. I don't think he's infected. I'd like to untie him, if that's all right." Beatrice nodded.

"Yeah, sure." She turned back to the makeshift bomb she was crafting.

"You know I'm gonna ask you why." Sam said quietly, glancing at Dean whose gaze was transfixed on the homemade bomb he'd been tinkering with for an hour or so.

"Yeah, I know."

"So why? Why didn't you do it?"

"We need more alcohol." Sam stood to get it, seeing he wasn't about to get an answer and went into the stock closet. To his surprise, Pam was already there.

"How you holding up, Pam?" He asked her gently.

"Good. It'll all be over soon." Beatrice frowned at the girl's words, looking up. The closet door slammed shut and locked with a loud click.

"Oh, Jesus!" She jumped to her feet.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked.

"Pam! She's one of them." She snatched up her gun from where she'd been sat and kicked the door hard. "Dean, help!" She screamed, kicking the door again.

Dean shot the lock beneath the handle and the door swung open. Pam was straddling Sam, one hand pulling the neck of his shirt down and the other pressed firmly to his chest. Blood bubbled up through her fingers. "Sam!" Beatrice fired the gun three times into Pam's back. The girl slumped forward and Sam threw her off, visibly shaken.

"She bled on him. He's got the virus." Mark said stoically. Sam's eyes widened and a silence fell over the room. The only sound breaking it was the heart wrenching cry of 'no!' that came from Beatrice.

"Doc, check his wound again, would you?" Dean snapped as he paced the room. Beatrice sat beside Sam, her head resting on his shoulder. There was silence. "Doctor!" Lee flinched.

"What's she need to examine him for? You saw what happened." Mark yelled.

"Did her blood actually enter your wound?" Lee said quietly.

"Come on, of course it did!"

"We don't know that for sure." Beatrice muttered.

"We can't take a chance." Duane said.

"You know what we have to do."

"Nobody's shooting my boyfriend!" She found Sam's hand and held it, hard.

"He isn't gonna be your boyfriend much longer. You said it yourself."

"Nobody is shooting anyone!" Dean yelled.

"You were gonna shoot me!" Duane screamed.

"You don't shut your pie-hole, I still might!" Beatrice's eyes flashed with anger and Duane fell silent, staring at his feet.

"Bea, they're right. I'm infected; just give me the gun and I'll do it myself." Sam whispered.

"Forget it."

"Bea, I'm not gonna become one of those things."

"Sam, we've still got some time-"

"Time for what? Look, I understand he's your boyfriend, and I'm sorry, I am. But we gotta take care of this." Mark pulled out a handgun and aimed it at Sam. Beatrice got to her feet, fists clenched.

"I'm gonna say this one time. You make a move on him, you'll be dead before you hit the ground. You understand me? I mean, do I make myself clear?"

"Then what are we supposed to do?!" Dean threw Mark the Impala keys.

"Get the hell out of here, that's what. Take my car. You've got the explosives, there's an arsenal in there. You two go with him. You've got enough firepower to handle anything now. Bea, you too."

"What about you?" Mark said, the same time Beatrice yelled, 'I'm staying here!'.

"Bea-"

"No, bite me, Dean. I'm not going anywhere."

"Alright." He said slowly. Sam looked mortified.

"Dean, Bea, no. No. Go with them. This is your only chance!"

"You're not gonna get rid of us that easy." Beatrice promised him.

"No, he's right. Come with us," Mark said, but after a mere silence replied, he shrugged, "okay, it's your funeral." He led Duane out and waited for Lee to follow.

"I'm sorry. Thanks for everything, Marshals." She said gently.

"Oh, actually we're not really Marshals." Dean smiled gently.

"Um... Oh..." Lee left the building, leaving the trio alone.

"Wish we had a deck of cards, or a foosball table or something." Dean smiled softly, leaning against the wall. Beatrice nodded in agreement, smiling back. Sam let out a choked sob.

"Please, don't do this. Just get the hell out of here." He begged.

"No way."

"Give me my gun, and leave."

"For the last time, Sam. No." Sam brought his fist onto the table, making Beatrice jump.

"This is the dumbest thing you've ever done." He said desperately. Dean grinned.

"Oh, I don't know about that. Remember that waitress in Tampa?" Beatrice sat on the table beside Sam, pulling him into her arms. She said nothing, just cradled him close to her, humming an old David Bowie song softly under her breath.

"Bea, I'm sick. It's over for me. It doesn't have to be for you." He pleaded with her, but she shook her head.

"No?"

"No, you can keep going."

"Who says I want to?"

"What?" Beatrice sighed, closing her eyes.

"I'm tired, Sam. I'm tired of this job, this life... this weight on my shoulders. I'm tired of it."

"So what, so you're just going to give up? You're just gonna lay down and die? Look, Bea, I know this stuff with Grace has-"

"You're wrong. It's not about Grace. I mean, part of it is, sure, but..."

"What is it about?"

Beatrice smiled wearily. "Because I see things in my dreams too."

Before Sam could speak, there was a gentle tapping on the window. Dean made his way over to the door where he unlocked it, gun raised. It was Lee.

"You'd better come see this." She said quietly. All five survivors stood outside the building. The area outside was deathly silent, and there seemed to be no one around. "There's no one. Not anywhere. They've all just… Vanished." Lee said.

Sam sat on the examination table, gripping Beatrice's hand tightly. "Well, it's been five hours and your blood's still clean. I don't understand it but I think you dodged a bullet." Lee smiled. Beatrice breathed out in relief.

"Oh, thank god."

"But I was exposed. How could I not be infected?" He frowned.

"I don't know. But you're just not. I mean, you compare it with the Tanner samples," when she looked at the samples, she froze, "what the hell?"

"What?"

"Their blood. There's no trace of the virus. No sulfur, nothing."

"What about him?" Dean pointed at Sam as Lee waved Mark and Duane off. She smiled.

"He's going to be fine. No signs of infection." As she went back inside, Beatrice turned to Sam.

"Hey man, don't look at me. I got no clue." He shrugged.

"I swear, I'm gonna lose sleep over this one. I mean, why here, why now? And where the hell did everybody go? It's like they just friggin' melted." She sighed deeply, then paused. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"Yeah, me too," he kissed the top of her head, "why was I immune?"

"Yeah. You know what? That's a good question. You know, I'm already starting to feel like this is the one that got away?"

Sam's expression wavered slightly. "Bea, what you said back there… About the dreams. You meant that?" He asked. His voice trembled and Beatrice sighed. She was hoping he wouldn't mention that again and she wilted under his gaze.

"It's not the yellow eyed demon, if that's what you think," she said, avoiding his eyes, "I did some research. My Dad's Mother, my Grandmother, she was a direct descendent of a Salem Witch." She looked up at him, eyes wet with tears. "I'm one of them, Sam. I am darkness."

Sam stared at her and for one horrible moment she thought he might put her down on the spot but to her surprise, he pulled her into his arms. "You're my Beatrice. It doesn't matter to me who you are, you have been nothing but good, so don't you _ever_ say you're darkness again, you hear me?"

Beatrice smiled weakly. "I promise. I love you." They joined Dean in the Impala and he pulled away. Watching out of the window, she couldn't help but feel this would come back to haunt her.

Beatrice sat on her bed in the motel, lips pursed as she watched Sam. Since his little friend had gone missing a month ago, he'd been acting... Differently. And her heritage revelation probably didn't help either. He was acting differently around her. Like she was a bomb just waiting to explode. If she had any powers, she was yet to discover them. "Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Ellen." He snapped the phone shut as Dean came in from the bathroom.

"What'd she have to say?" He asked, oblivious to the tension.

"Oh, she's got nothing. Me, I've been checking every database I can think of. Federal, state, and local. No one's heard anything about Ava, she just… Into thin air, you know?" Beatrice said with a sigh. The only reason she was helping to look for this girl was because Sam liked her. She'd never met her personally. She sighed, picking up her coffee.

"What about you?" Sam asked his brother. Dean shrugged.

"No, same as before. Sorry, man."

"Ellen did have one thing." Beatrice perked up, taking a sip of coffee.

"Hmm?"

"A hotel in Cornwall, Connecticut, two freak accidents in the past three weeks."

"It's a job. I mean, a lady drowned in the bathtub; then a few days ago a guy falls down the stairs, head turns a complete one-eighty. Which isn't exactly normal, you know? Look, I don't know, Dean, it might be nothing, but I told Ellen we'd think about checking it out."

"You did?"

"Yeah. You seem surprised." She scowled. Dean shrugged.

"I just figured after you discovered you're part Satan-worshipper there'd be, uh, you know, more angst and droopy music and staring out the rainy windows, and- I'll shut up now."

"It's witchcraft. Not Satan worship. I'm trying to better myself. I want to help people, isn't that the Hunter's way?" She corrected him with a scowl.

"Wow. That attitude is just way too healthy for me, and I'm officially uncomfortable now. Thank you." Dean teased her. Smiling, Beatrice leaned back against the headboard of the bed she shared with Sam. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Alright, call Ellen. Tell her we'll take it." Dean continued, grinning at the pair. Sam nodded, seeing Beatrice's eyelids begin to droop.

"I'll do it. I think someone needs a nap." He laughed.

Beatrice laughed quietly, before laying her head on the pillow and almost instantly falling asleep.

A thick mist hung above the ground as the Impala pulled up outside the Inn. Beatrice shifted uncomfortably in her seat, chewing the inside of her cheek with nerves. She hated buildings like that. They just gave her a very uneasy feeling.

Dean's face, however, was alight with a grin. "Dude, this is sweet. I never get to work jobs like this." He exclaimed. Sam looked at him oddly.

"Like what?"

"Old school haunted houses, you know? Fog, and secret passageways, sissy British accents. Might even run into Fred and Daphne while we're inside. Mmm. Daphne. Love her."

They ascended the four steps leading to the front door but Beatrice stopped at the top. "I'm not so sure haunted's the problem." She muttered as she inspected a plant pot.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked her, scowling.

"You see this pattern here? That's a quincunx, that's a five-spot."

"Five spot.."

"Yeah."

"That's used for hoodoo spellwork, isn't it?"

"Right, yeah. You fill this thing with bloodweed and you've got a powerful charm to ward off enemies." She shrugged.

"Trust a Witch to know that, I guess. Except I don't see any bloodweed. Don't you think this place is a little too, uh, white meat for hoodoo?"

"Maybe." She lingered outside for a while, lighting a cigarette which she placed between her lips. She sucked on it for a moment, enjoying the warmth it filled her with, then crushed it beneath her heel and followed them into the reception.

"Your sister, I presume?" The woman behind the desk asked when she went in.

"No, she's my girlfriend." Sam answered monotonously.

"Oh, I'm sorry." She laughed nervously. "Honestly, I'm all in a fluster today."

"No problem." Autumn smiled.

"You'll be staying in room 237. Sherwin, could you show these people to their rooms?" A tall, slightly balding, older man came up behind them.

"Let me guess. Antiquers?"

Sherwin dragged Dean's duffel bag up the stairs. "I could give you a hand with that bag." Dean offered with a frown as the sound of something breaking came from inside the material.

"I got it." He assured him.

"Okay."

"So the hotel's closing up, huh?" Sam asked, one arm around Beatrice's waist as he balanced his own bag on his shoulder, visibly cautious of the elderly butler.

"Yep. Miss Susan tried to make a go of it, but the guests just don't come like they used to. Still, it's a damn shame."

"Yeah?"

"It may not look it anymore, but this place was a palace. Two different vice presidents laid their heads on our pillows. My parents worked here, I practically grew up here. Gonna miss it. Here's your room." Sherwin slid the key into a large brass lock in the middle of a wooden door.

He pressed the key into Sam's hand as him and Beatrice went into the room, but as Dean tried to follow, Sherwin held out his hand. "You're not gonna cheap on me, are you, boy?" He smiled innocently. Dean scowled and took out his wallet.

Beatrice stared at the wedding dress pinned to the wall. "What the-?"

"What?" Sam asked.

"That's normal. Why the hell would anyone stay here? I'm amazed they kept in business this long." She sighed, setting her bag down on the bed.

Dean chuckled, laying back on the second bed. "Alright. Victim number one: Joan Edison, forty three years old, a realtor handling the sale of the hotel; and victim number two was Larry Williams, moving some stuff out to Goodwill."

"Well, there's a connection, they're both tied up in shutting the place down." Beatrice sighed, cracking open a can of diet cola that she took from her bag. "Maybe somebody here doesn't want to leave, and they're using hoodoo to fight back."

"Who do you think our witch doctor is, that Susan lady?" Dean suggested.

"No, doesn't seem likely. I mean, she is the one selling."

"So what then, Sherwin?"

"I don't know."

"Of course, the most troubling question is why do these people assume we're gay?" Dean complained, folding his arms.

"Well, you are kinda butch. Probably think you're overcompensating." Sam laughed.

"Right." Forcing a laugh, he laid back down.

The hotel's walls were lined with dimming lights, filling the corridor with a dull orange glow and splattering the wallpaper with red and magenta. "Hey. Look at that. More hoodoo." Beatrice pointed out, motioning to a vase. They approached a door marked 'Private.'

Dean knocked and almost immediately, Susan answered. "Hi there." He said, trying to sound casual but Beatrice could see the surprise in his eyes.

"Hi. Everything okay with your room?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything's great." Beatrice assured her.

"Well, I was, I was just in the middle of packing."

"Hey," Dean said, looking past her, "Are those antique dolls? Because this one, this one here, he's got a major doll collection back home. Dontcha? Huh?" He pointed to Sam who scowled.

"Big time."

"Big time. You think he could come, or we could come in and take a look?"

"I don't know..." Susan said.

"Please? I mean, he loves them. He's not gonna tell you this, but he's, he's always dressing 'em up in these little outfits and, um, you'd make his day. She would, huh? Huh?"

"It's true."

"Okay. Come on in."

"Aright. Alright!" He slapped Sam on the back and followed him in. Beatrice chuckled, taking a good look around. A shudder ran down her spine.

"Wow. This is a lot of dolls. I mean, they're nice, you know. Not super creepy at all." She said with only a little sarcasm. Susan laughed.

"Yeah, I suppose they are a little creepy. But they've been in the family forever. A lot of sentimental value."

"What's this? The hotel?" Sam pointed to a large dolls house.

"Yeah, that's right. Exact replica, custom built." Susan sounded like she was reading from a textbook, like she'd recited it a thousand times before. Beatrice crouched down and picked up a broken doll with the head twisted around.

"His head got twisted around. What happened to it?"

"Tyler, probably." A tiny girl with long blonde hair, presumably Tyler, ran in.

"Mommy! Maggie's being mean." She cried. Beatrice smiled, endeared.

"Hey Tyler. I see you broke your doll. You want me to fix it?" Sam said to her kindly. Beatrice couldn't help but feel a warmth because after all, she wanted more than anything to start a family with him. But something like that was just impossible.

"I didn't break it. I found it like that."

"Oh. Well, uh, maybe Maggie did it."

"No, neither of us did it. Grandma would get mad if we broke 'em."

"Tyler, she wouldn't get mad." Susan assured her quickly.

"Grandma?" Dean interrupted.

"Grandma Rose, these were all her toys." Tyler said.

"Oh. Really? Where's Grandma Rose now?"

"Up in her room."

"You know, I'd, I'd really love to talk to Rose about her incredible doll-" Sam started.

"No!" Susan cried, her voice hoarse, but seeing the looks on the trio's faces she forced herself to smile. "I mean, I'm afraid that's impossible. My mother's been very sick and she's not taking any visitors." Beatrice exchanged a look with Dean, who shrugged, clueless. Nothing about this case made any sense and now, things were only getting weirder.

The three of them left the playroom moments after, talking in hushed voices. "Well, what do you think? Dolls, hoodoo, mysterious shut-in grandma?" Dean said.

"Well, dolls are used in all kinds of voodoo and hoodoo, like curses, and binding spells." Beatrice sighed, rubbing her forehead tiredly.

"Yeah, maybe we've found our witch doctor. All right, I'll see what I can go dig up on Granny, you go get online, check old obits, freak accidents, that sort of thing, see if she's whacked anybody before."

"Right."

"Bea, you go with him."

"Okay." She followed Sam back to the room, humming softly to herself. She collapsed back on the bed, flicking through an old bible she'd found stuffed in the drawers beside her. She slammed it down with a sigh. "I'm bored."

"Yeah, me too." Sam admitted.

"You know what we should do?"

"What?"

"Get drunk."

"Bea-"

"Oh, come on Sam. Please?"

He smiled at her, shaking his head in amusement. "Alright, fine." He said, defeated. She grinned triumphantly and crawled to the mini fridge, emerging victorious with her prize, a large bottle of tequila.

When Dean opened the door to the hotel room, the smell of alcohol hit him like wave. "What the-?" Beatrice was sprawled on the bed in one of Sam's shirts and her underwear, an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips that danced in her mouth when she talked.

Sam was slumped in an armchair, giggling maniacally at something she'd said. "There's been another one. Some guy just hung himself in his room." Dean said carefully.

"Yeah. We saw."

"We've gotta figure this out, and fast. What'd you find out about Granny?"

"You're bossy." Beatrice sniggered.

"What?"

"You're bossy." She repeated. Sam giggled.

"And short." The two burst out laughing.

"Are you drunk?"

"Yeah."

"So?"

"Stupid." They laughed again.

"Guys, what were you thinking?! We're working a case." Dean snapped.

"That guy who hung himself. I couldn't save him." Sam whispered, tears filling his eyes. Beatrice gasped, the cigarette falling from her mouth to the bed.

"What are you talking about? You didn't know, you couldn't have done anything." Dean sighed, exasperated with their behaviour.

"That's an excuse, Dean. I should have found a way to save him. I should have saved Ava too." Sam insisted.

"Yeah, well, you can't save everyone, even you said that."

"No, Dean, you don't understand, all right? The more people I save, the more I can change!"

"Change what?"

"My destiny, Dean!"

"Alright. Time for bed. Come on, Sasquatch. You two, Bea. Come on." He pulled Sam to his feet and led him over to the bed.

"I need you to watch out for me." Sam said, struggling against him.

"Yeah. I always do."

"No! No, no, no. You have to watch out for me, all right? And if I ever turn into something that I'm not, you have to kill me."

"Sam-"

"Dean! Dad told you to do it, you have to."

"Yeah, well, Dad's an ass. He never should have said anything, I mean, you don't do that, you don't, you don't lay that kind of crap on your kids."

"No. He was right to say it! Who knows what I might become? Even now, everyone around me dies!"

"Yeah, well, I'm not dying, okay? Neither's Bea, and neither are you. Come on. Sam." He pushed Sam onto the bed beside Beatrice who was already curled up like a cat, snoring softly.

"No, please! Dean, you're the only one who can do it. Promise."

"Don't ask that of me."

"Dean, please. You have to promise me."

"Promise." Dean sighed.

"Thanks," Sam reached up and clasped Dean's face tightly, "thank you."

"Alright, come on." He pushed Sam's hands away from his face and placed him beside Beatrice on the bed.

He smiled, rolled onto his stomach and hugged the pillow with both arms. Beatrice whined in her sleep as the pillow was removed from her and she stirred, hitting Sam lightly on the back before curling up again, using him as a pillow.

Dean sighed, rubbing his forehead with his hand. "Great."

Sam knelt in front of the toilet, groaning softly. Beatrice sat cross legged beside him and held his hair back from his face. "How come you don't get a hangover?" He grumbled.

"Witchcraft." She shrugged as he retched again. She grimaced. "Nice. Real classy." Dean came in behind them and grinned, watching the scene.

"How you feeling, Sammy?" He teased him. Sam groaned again.

"I guess mixing whisky and Jager wasn't such a gangbuster idea, was it? I'll bet you don't remember a thing from last night, do you?" Sam glared at him, then leaned over the bowl again.

"I can still taste the tequila." He muttered. Dean laughed.

"You know, there's a really good hangover remedy, it's a, it's a greasy pork sandwich served up in a dirty ashtray."

"I hate you." He vomited again. Beatrice pushed his hair back from his eyes, rubbing his back in small circles.

"I know you do. Hey, turns out when Grandma Rose was a tyke she had a Creole nanny who wore a hoodoo necklace."

"So, you think she taught Rose hoodoo?" Beatrice asked.

"Yes, I do."

"Alright," she helped Sam to stand, "I think it's time we talked to Rose, then."

"Oh. He can brush his teeth first." Dean chuckled.

Beatrice rapped gently on Tyler's playroom door. Hello? Susan?" She opened the door a crack and peered in, cautiously looking around. "Clear."

"Mm hm." They followed her in. The dolls stood still in their cabinets, staring with beady glass eyes. They went up to the attic where an elderly woman was sat in a wheelchair, facing a rain splattered window but her expression was blank. "Mrs Thompson?" Beatrice said gently.

"Mrs Thompson?" Sam repeated.

"Rose? Hi, Mrs. Thompson, we're not here to hurt you, it's okay." Beatrice continued. Rose's eyes shifted slightly in their sockets to look at her. "Rose?" When she still didn't say anything, she took the boys to the side of the room. "Guys, this woman's had a stroke."

"Yeah, but hoodoo's hands-on, I mean, you've got to mix herbs, and chant, and build an altar." Dean sighed.

"Yeah. So it can't be Rose. Hey, maybe it's not even hoodoo." Sam continued.

"Or she could be faking."

"Yeah, what are you gonna do, poke her with a stick?" Beatrice scowled. Dean looked like he might be considering it so Sam slapped his arm.

"Dude! You're not gonna poke her with a stick!" The door opened behind them and Susan cried out as she saw the trio lingering by her sickly Mother.

"What the hell?! What are you doing in here?" She screamed.

"Oh, we just wanted to talk to Rose." Sam said quickly, the same time Beatrice said, "Well, the door was open."

"Look at her, she is scared out of her wits. I want you out of my hotel in two minutes or I'm calling the cops." She ran over to her mother. Beatrice nodded and held her hands up in surrender. Before the other two could protest, she dragged them down the stairs and out of the hotel.

Beatrice sat in the back of the Impala, visibly uneasy. "Guys, I think we should go back."

"Why would we go back? You heard what she said." Dean snapped.

"Dean, something's not right. Nobody else is going to die, not on my watch." She snapped.

Dean sighed, but obediently turned the car around. He'd always thought her gut feelings were usually pretty accurate but since her revelation he'd learned to listen more carefully. He supposed that came with the territory of Witches' blood but it still made him uncomfortable. "Thank you Dean." She cooed, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Yeah, don't mention it." He scowled. They pulled up to the hotel and Beatrice's eyes widened. The playground outside the house was alive with movement, swings and roundabouts spinning wildly, and a large red car was speeding towards a terrified Susan. Sam jumped from the Impala while it was still moving and pushed Susan out of the way, falling with her.

The Impala came to a stop and Beatrice staggered out. "Are you okay?"

"I think so." Susan whispered.

"Come on, come on. Let's get inside, let's go." Dean helped Susan up. She staggered up to the bar, gasping for breath. "Whiskey." She choked.

"Sure. I know the feeling." Sam muttered. He returned a minute later with a glass of whiskey, which he handed her.

"What the hell happened out there?" She muttered.

"You want the truth?" Beatrice said.

"Of course."

"Well, at first we thought it was some sort of hoodoo curse, but that out there? That was definitely a spirit."

"You're insane."

"Yeah, it's been said. Look, I'm sorry, Susan. We don't exactly have time to ease you into this, but we need to know when your mother had the stroke."

"What does that have to do with any-"

"Just answer the question."

"About a month ago."

"Right before the killings began," Beatrice turned to Sam and Dean, "See? So what if Rose was working hoodoo, but not to hurt anyone. To protect them." She suggested. Dean nodded.

"She was using the five spot urns to ward off the spirit."

"Right, until she had a stroke and she couldn't anymore." Sam continued, nodding.

"I don't believe this..." Susan mumbled, sipping her whiskey. Her hand shook so violently that her teeth clinked loudly against the glass.

"Listen, sister, that car didn't try to run you down by itself, okay? I mean, I guess it did, technically, but, but the spirit can... Forget it." Dean sighed.

"Look, believe what you want. But the fact is you and your family are in danger, all right? So you need to clear everybody out of here: your employees, your mother, your daughters, everyone." Sam interrupted.

"Um, I only have one daughter."

"One? I thought Tyler had a sister named Maggie."

"Maggie's imaginary."

Beatrice looked up urgently. "Where's Tyler?"

They ran up to the playroom. Beatrice pushed the door open and her face paled. Dolls lay smashed on the floor, scattered like a destructive child's play. "Oh my god. Tyler. Tyler! She's not here!" Susan screamed.

"Susan. Tell us what you know about Maggie." Sam ordered.

"Uh, not much. Um, Tyler's been talking about her since Mom got sick."

"Okay, did you ever know anyone by that name?"

"No."

"Think, think, I mean, somebody that could have lived here, might have passed away?" Dean urged her to hurry.

"Oh my god. My mom. My mom had a sister named Margaret. She barely spoke about her."

"Did Margaret happen to die here when she was a kid?"

"She drowned in the pool."

"Come on!" With Susan leading the way, the four ran down to the pool. They reached the large grey bricked building and Beatrice started pounding on the door.

"Tyler!" Susan screamed. Though the window, Beatrice could see Tyler was stood on the edge of the pool, holding on.

"Mommy!" An invisible force pushed the young girl and she fell screaming into the pool.

"Is there another entrance?" Dean panicked.

"Around back!"

"All right, let's go," he turned to Beatrice, "keep working." The three others sped around the building, leaving Beatrice alone. She reached for a plant pot she could use to break the window but hesitated and stepped back instead, raising her hands to the door. She concentrated and the door imploded, wood and glass shattering inwards. She stared, dumbfounded, but seeing Tyler thrash in the water brought her back to her senses and she rushed into the pool.

"Hold on Tyler!" She yelled.

She dived the side of the pool, the cold water shocking her but she held firm, propelling forward until she found Tyler, cocooned in a plastic pool cover. She unwrapped her from the sheet and wrapped one arm around the little girl's waist, lifting her out of the water and onto the side before Sam helped her out. Beatrice dropped to her knees, exhausted, while Susan attempted CPR.

After a tense, silent moment, Tyler spluttered and sat up. "Oh, thank god." Susan sobbed.

"Mommy!"

"Yeah baby, I'm here." She cradled Tyler close.

"Tyler, do you see Maggie anywhere?" Beatrice said gently. Tyler looked around, a little fearful, but relief flooded onto her face and she shook her head.

"No, she's gone. Mommy..."

"I don't get it, did Maggie just stop?" Dean sighed as they waited for Susan to bring her mother downstairs. Sam shrugged, draping an arm around Beatrice's shoulders.

"Seems like it."

"Well, where the hell did she go?" Upstairs, Susan screamed. The trio ran up to Rose's room, where the old woman was slumped in her chair, dead.

"Paramedics said it was another stroke. Do you think Margaret could have had something to do with it?" Susan said as they watched Paramedics take Rose away in a body bag.

"We don't know." Dean admitted.

"But it's possible, yeah." Sam shrugged.

"Susan, we're sorry." Beatrice said gently, crossing her arms.

"You have nothing to apologize for. You've given me everything," she smiled as Tyler skipped out, "ready to go, kiddo?"

"Yeah!" Tyler said enthusiastically, a big smile on her face.

"Now Tyler, you're sure Maggie's not around anymore?" Beatrice said.

"I'm sure. I'd see her."

"I guess whatever's going on must be over." Sam shrugged.

"You two take care of yourselves, all right?" Beatrice smiled warmly, holding the taxi door open. Before getting in, Susan turned and hugged her tightly.

"Thank you. All of you." She pulled back and got into the taxi. Beatrice beamed, waving them off.

"You are a little hero, aren't you?" Dean ruffled Beatrice's hair and she scowled, pulling away. She was just glad they hadn't seen her blow the door up, because she wasn't sure she could answer their questions. "Well, you saved the mom, you saved the girl. Not a bad day. Of course, you know, I could have saved them myself, but I didn't want you to feel useless." Dean smirked.

"Alright. I appreciate it." She scoffed.

"Feels good getting back in the saddle, doesn't it?" He said to both of them. Sam nodded.

"Yeah, it does. But it doesn't change what we talked about last night, Dean."

"We talked about a lot of things last night."

"You know what I mean."

"You were wasted."

"But you weren't. And you promised." He got into the passenger seat, staring straight ahead. Beatrice looked at him uneasily and slid her hand into the front of the car between his and Dean's seats. He grabbed it and held onto her tightly. The car pulled away from the inn in silence.

"Ellen, it's me again. Any chance you've heard from him?" Dean said into the phone.

Beatrice paced the room anxiously, sucking on her fifth cigarette in ten minutes. Her glasses were fogged with smoke and tears but she didn't seem to notice. "I swear, it's like looking for my dad all over again. I'm losing my mind here... No, we've called him a thousand times, there's nothing but voicemail. I don't know where he went, or why. Sam's just gone." Dean went on.

A second phone's ringtone echoed through the room and Beatrice froze, fishing her phone out of her pocket. "Hang on, Dean." She flipped the phone open, holding it to her ear. "Sammy? Where the hell are you? Are you okay?" She panicked. "Hey, hey, hey! Calm down. Where are you? All right, don't move, I'm on my way."

Beatrice sprinted through the corridors, reaching speeds she didn't know she was capable of as she searched desperately for room 109. She knocked loudly, her fist pounding against the door. She was half tempted to blow it up like she had done back at the inn "Sam, it's me! Sam!"

"Bea, calm down." Dean pleaded, unsure of what she was capable of now she knew she had powers she could use, for good or otherwise.

"Shut up." She snarled almost animalistically, narrowing her eyes. Trying the door, she was both relieved and surprised when it swung open. Sam was sat still on the bed, staring blankly at the wall. He didn't react even when she kneeled in front of him. "Sam, hey."

"Hey Beatrice."

"Are you bleeding?" Dean demanded.

"I tried to wash it off."

"Oh my god." Beatrice gingerly touched Sam's front and was mortified to see her hand come away stained with red.

"I don't think it's my blood."

"Whose is it?" Dean said.

"I don't know."

"Sam, what the hell happened?" Sam finally looked up, tears in his eyes.

"Dean. I don't remember anything."

Dean returned from the grocery store half an hour later, clutching a bag so tightly his knuckles were strained white. Beatrice had made Sam shower and change and he was starting to look a little less out of it. "What'd you find out?" Sam asked, fearing the worst.

"You checked in two days ago under the name Richard Sambora. Of course, I think the scariest part about this whole thing is the fact that you're a Bon Jovi fan." Dean said, trying to make light of the situation. Autumn glared at him.

"Dean."

"Your room's been quiet, nobody's noticed anything unusual." He continued.

"You mean no one saw me walking around covered in blood?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. That's what I mean."

"Then how the hell did I get here? What happened to me?"

"I don't know. But you're, you're okay, and that's what matters. Everything else we can deal with." Beatrice soothed him, stroking his hair.

"Oh really? 'Cause what if I hurt someone? Or worse?"

"Sam..."

"What if this is what Dad warned Dean about?"

"Hey, whoa, whoa, come on man, let's not jump the gun here. We don't know what happened. We've just got to treat this like, like any other job. What's the last thing you remember?" Dean said.

"Just me and you and Beatrice, just, in that motel room in West Texas, going out to grab some burgers, and..."

"West Texas? That was… That was over a week ago."

"That's it. Next thing I knew I was sitting here. Bloody. Felt like I'd been asleep for a month."

"Okay. Retrace your steps. The manager said you left yesterday afternoon and he never saw you come back, so," Dean pulled back the curtain as he spoke, "hey."

"Recognize anything?" Beatrice asked as the trio walked through the rain. Sam shook his head.

"Not really," he sighed. They entered a parking lot garage around the back of the motel. "Wait."

"What?"

"I think I was here."

"You remember?" Sam shrugged.

"Not really, it just feels familiar, you know?" Dean walked over to the nearest garage, inspecting it closely. Sam looked over at the second one and pointed to it. "Try that one. Yeah."

"Okay." Dean began to tug on the padlock.

"Wait." Sam dug in his pocket and fished out a set of keys. The door opened to reveal a filthy beat up VW beetle.

"Oh, please tell me you didn't steal this." Beatrice groaned.

Sam didn't answer. He pulled open the driver's door and pressed his finger to the steering wheel. It came away red. "More blood."

"Sam, backseat." Beatrice said quietly. She'd gone a sickly grey colour. Sam reached down and picked up a sticky-with-blood knife.

"You think I used this on someone?" He said, shaken. Dean sighed.

"I'm not thinking anymore." He sighed and picked up a packet of cigarettes that were also in the back. "Okay now, this is disturbing. Come on, man, this couldn't have been you. Had to have been someone else, someone who," he sniffed the packet, "smokes menthols."

"Here. Gas receipt. Few towns over." Sam said. Beatrice took the packet from Dean and, with trembling hands, lit a cigarette that she struggled to even raise to her lips. She couldn't shake the horrible thought from her head that_ her boyfriend was a killer_.

"Alright. Receipt's for ten gallons at pump number two. You getting any, uh, any goosebumps yet? God, this looks familiar, deja vu vibes?" Dean asked as they pulled into the gas station.

Sam shook his head. "Maybe someone inside will remember you. Come on." Beatrice, who had been asleep in the back, awoke with a groan.

"Come on, Bea." Dean opened the door for her and she staggered out. As they entered, the clerk looked up and his expression darkened considerably when he saw Sam.

"You. Outta here now, I'm calling the cops."

"You talking to him?" Dean said in disbelief.

"Yeah, I'm talking to him. Jerk comes in yesterday, stinking drunk, grabs a forty from the fridge, starts chugging it."

"This guy? You're drinking malt liquor?"

"Not after he whipped the friggin' bottle at my head."

"_This guy_?"

"What, am I speaking Urdu?"

"Look, I'm really sorry if I did anything-" Sam said quietly but the clerk cut him off.

"Tell your story walkin', pal. Po-po will be here in five."

"Wait, wait, put the phone down. Sam, go wait in the car." Beatrice said quickly.

"But Beatrice-"

"Go wait in the car!" She sighed as Sam left, "okay, look, man. I just want to talk to you, that's it. Okay? Now, when he took off yesterday, where did he go?"

"Why don't you ask him?"

"Cause I'm asking you. Now please, you'd be doing me a huge favor."

"Oh, do you a favor? Well, that is what I live for. You know, your buddy didn't pay for the booze. Okay? Or the smokes, which he also illegally lit up."

"You saw him _smoking_?"

"Yeah. Guy's a chimney." Beatrice pulled out her purse and placed three bills on the table.

"This, uh, ought to cover it."

"Hmm. It's, uh, it's coming back to me now. He took two packs."

"Of course he did." She grumbled as she slapped another three onto the desk.

"He went north. Route 71, straight out of town."

"Dean, come on." Beatrice grabbed two candy bars and led Dean out of the shop, readying herself to yell at Sam. "What's going on with you, Sam? Hm? Because smoking, throwing bottles at people, I mean, that sounds more like Dean than you." She snapped the minute they took off down the road, and Dean laughed but the sound was hollow.

"Dean, wait, right here. Turn down that road." Sam ignored Beatrice, instead turning to face his brother, who glanced at him with an eyebrow raised in question.

"What?"

"I don't know how I know, I just do." The car swerved down a back road onto a private property which was decorated with various security lights and cameras. "Whoever lives here, I'd say they don't like surprises." He sighed.

"Should we knock?"

"Yeah, I guess." Dean knocked while Sam and Beatrice poked around the side of the house.

"Hey, Sam." She whispered. She ran her flashlight over a large window that had been smashed, littering the ground below and the ledge with broken glass.

"I'm surprised the cops didn't show. Place like this you'd think it'd have an alarm." Dean said, coming around the corner. Beatrice noticed a broken alarm and went pale.

"Yeah, you would." Sam muttered, spotting the alarm at the same time as Beatrice.

As they entered the house, they were greeted with broken glass and random objects all over the carpet. Various possessions that should have been a shelf were scattered around the room. They entered the bedroom and Sam groaned loudly. A body was sprawled on the floor, his limbs removed and thrown carelessly around the room.

"Get the lights." Beatrice croaked. She knelt beside the body and turned it over. It was a middle aged man with his throat cut and eyes staring. Dead, obviously dead. Beatrice slapped her hand to her mouth while Sam and Dean looked mortified.

"Guys, I did this."

"We don't know that." Beatrice insisted, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

"What else do you need? I mean, how else do you explain the car, the knife, the blood-"

"I don't know, Baby, why don't you tell me? Look, even if you did do this I'm sure you had a good reason; you know, self-defense, uh, he was, he was a bad person, or something," she patted her hands along the corpse's front, "he doesn't have any ID."

"I need your lockpick." Sam said suddenly, turning to Dean.

"What?"

"I need your lockpick." He repeated. He jiggled it in the lock on the cupboard until it clicked and the the doors came away to reveal a whole arsenal of weaponry. "I.. I think I killed a hunter.."

Dean paused, spotting a security camera in the corner of the ceiling. "Let's find out." After Beatrice had put the tape into the computer, the trio gathered around to watch. The image was a little hard to make out, but there was Sam, wrestling with the man. They fought for a little while, and then Sam straddled the man and slit his throat, leaving him for dead before dismembering him.

"Oh Christ.." Beatrice muttered, head in her hands. Well, that cleared things up.

"How do you erase this? Huh? Sam, come on, I need your help." Dean yelled as he bustled around the room, cleaning things up and wiping their fingerprints with his jacket.

Sam stayed sat on the chair, staring at the frozen image of him murdering the man. Beside him, Beatrice backed up a little, her face a mask of horror and a little fear. "I killed him, Dean. I just broke in and killed him." He mumbled.

"Listen to me. Whoever this guy is, he's a hunter. Which means that other hunters are going to come looking for his killer, which means we've got to cover our tracks, okay?" Dean snapped.

"His name was Steve Wandell. This is a letter from his daughter." Sam picked up a note from the desk beside the computer without looking up.

Beatrice looked at the letter, at Sam then at Dean. She made her decision quickly, lifting the CPU high above her head before bringing it down on the ground, crushing it beneath her foot for added emphasis. It sparked and smoked, but was ultimately destroyed.

"Wipe your prints, then we go." She said firmly, standing up and leaving the room. The brothers stared after her.

"Man, I sure hope you never piss her off." Dean mumbled.

Back at the motel room, Beatrice paced slowly while Sam and Dean spoke.

"All right, we get a couple hours sleep and then we put this place in our rearview mirror. Look, I know this is bad, okay? You've gotta snap out of it. Sam, say something!" Dean said, his voice getting increasingly louder with each word.

"Just get some sleep and leave in the morning? Murder, Dean. That's what I did."

"Maybe. Okay? Hey, we don't know... Shapeshifter!"

"Oh, come on. You know it wasn't, you saw the tape. There was no eye flare, no distortion-"

"Yeah, but it wasn't you! Alright? I mean, yeah, it might have been you, but it wasn't you."

"Well, I think it was. I think maybe more than you know."

"What the hell does that mean?" Beatrice asked, coming to a standstill.

"For the last few weeks I've been having... I've been having these feelings."

"What feelings?" Dean pressed.

"Rage. Hate. And I can't stop it. It just gets worse. Day by day it gets worse."

"You never told us this."

"I didn't want to scare you."

"Well, bang-up job on that."

"Dean, the yellow-eyed demon, you know he has plans for me. And we both know that he's turned other children into killers before, too."

"No one can control you but you."

"It sure doesn't seem like that, Dean, it feels like no matter what I do, slowly but surely I'm, I'm just becoming..."

"What?"

"Who I'm meant to be. I mean, you said it once yourself, Dean. I gotta face up to who I am."

"I didn't mean this!"

"But it's still true. You know that. Dad knew that too, that's why he told you, if it ever came to this…" Beatrice could see the desperation in his eyes when he spoke, but something didn't feel right. She wasn't sure what it was, but then it hit her. He never, _ever _called her Beatrice.

"Shut up, Sam." She whispered.

"Dean, you promised him. You promised me."

"No. Listen to me. We're going to figure this out. Okay? I mean, there's got to be a way, right?" Dean sounded desperate now.

"Yeah, there is," he took his gun from his bag and handed it to Dean, "I don't want to hurt anyone else. I don't want to hurt you, and I definitely don't want to hurt Beatrice."

"You won't. Whatever this is, you can fight it."

"No. I can't. Not forever. Here, you gotta do it."

"You know, I've tried to hard to keep you safe."

"I know."

"I can't. I'd rather die." Dean dropped the gun and pushed past Sam. Beatrice saw something flicker in Sam's eyes other than remorse and she backed up instinctively to the door. She knew now, that whatever this was, it wasn't him. She felt stupid not to have seen it from the start.

"No. You'll live," Sam picked up the gun when Dean turned around, "you'll live to regret this." He hit Dean over the back of the head before Beatrice could scream a warning. He turned on her, an inhumane grin on his face that chilled her to her bones. "Sorry 'bout this, Sweetheart."

He raised the gun level with her shoulder and fired. The bullet shattered her bicep and she screamed, clutching her arm. His fingers closed around her throat and he lifted her, slamming her into the wall. She writhed desperately under his grasp, struggling to catch breath she couldn't quite reach, but he squeezed her throat tighter until she gave in and everything went black.

It was the knocking that awoke Beatrice. The knocking, then the sound of people talking.

"Hey. It's past your checkout." Someone said.

"What?" Dean said groggily as he pushed himself into a sitting position. Beatrice's eyes fluttered open and she groaned loudly. There was a dull throbbing pain in her arm, though she was pleased to see the flow of blood had stopped.

"It's past checkout, and I've got a couple here needs your room." An embarrassed businessman was stood behind the manager with a woman who was dressed in very revealing clothing.

"Yeah, I'll bet they do. What time is it?"

"Twelve-thirty."

"That guy who was with us, have you seen him?" Beatrice said as she got shakily to her feet.

"Yeah, he left before dawn in your car, and you should have gone with him, because now I'm going to have to charge you extra."

"Oh, son of a-"

"It's just policy, ma'am."

"I need to use your computer." She said.

"Now, why would I let you use my computer?"

Beatrice sat in front of the reception computer, phone balanced between her ear and shoulder while she typed furiously with both hands.

"Hi, uh, so sorry to bother you, but uh, my son snuck out of the house last night and, uh, went to a Justin Timberlake concert... What? Yeah. No, Justin is quite the triple threat. Uh, anyway, he's not back yet, and, and I'm just, I'm starting to worry... Right. Yeah, boys will be boys. But see, Sammy is a diabetic, and uh, if he doesn't get his insulin, I just, I have to find him. Please, I'm begging you. Yeah, no, no, no, I"mon the web site right now, I just need to activate the GDS in his cell phone.. Yeah, right there. Duluth, Minnesota. Yeah, that is a long way to go for a concert. I appreciate your help.."

She hung up and looked up at Dean. "Duluth. Let's go."

Beatrice flung the bar doors open. "Sam!" His head snapped up and he snarled. Jo was tied to a post, a bandanna gagging her mouth.

"I begged you to stop me, guys." He said calmly, holding the knife to Jo's throat.

"Put the knife down, dammit." Dean cried.

"I told you I can't fight it! My head feels like it's on fire, all right? Beatrice. Kill me, or I'm going to kill her. Please. You've be doing me a favor! Shoot me. Shoot me!" He turned to Beatrice, arms spread crucifixion style like he was going to give her a hug.

"No, Sammy, come on." She turned away, gun lowered.

"What the hell's wrong with you, Beatrice? Are you that scared of being alone that you'd rather let Jo die?" He taunted her. Beatrice lunged forward suddenly, splashing Sam with holy water.

He screeched, his skin fizzing. "That's holy water, you demonic son of a bitch! You think for one second I thought it was him? He never calls me Beatrice. Do your damn research." Sam raised his head to reveal deep black eyes. He ran towards the window and jumped, the glass smashing as he tumbled out.

"Dean, help Jo. I'll get him." She said,

Reloading her gun, Beatrice fled from the bar, chasing the demon out to a warehouse by a dock. She couldn't see him, but she heard his voice echo through the shelves. "So who are you?" She called.

"I got lots of names."

"You've been in Sam since he disappeared, haven't you?"

"You should have seen your face when you thought he murdered that guy. Pathetic."

"Why didn't you kill Dean and I? You had a dozen chances."

"No, that would have been too easy. Where's the fun in that? See, this was a test. Wanted to see if I could push you far enough to waste Sam. Should have known you wouldn't have the sac. Anyway. Fun's over now."

"Well, I hope you got your kicks. Because you're gonna pay hell for this, I'm gonna make sure of that." She smiled coldly.

"How? You can't hurt me. Not without hurting your little boyfriend. See, I think you're gonna die, Beatrice. You and Dean every other hunter I can find. One look into Sam's dewey, sensitive eyes? They'll let me right in their door."

She followed him out to an open air dock where the night masked her vision. Before her eyes could adjust, Sam came up behind her, hitting her in the back of the head. Her knees collapsed beneath her and with a second blow to her head, she slumped down, out cold.

Sam kicked her lifeless body into the water below where she fell completely still.

Half an hour passed before Dean and Jo wandered along the dock, searching for Beatrice. Unable to spot her he pulled out his cell phone, dialling her number. "This is Beatrice, leave a message!" He groaned and hung up, before trying again a few moments later.

To his surprise he could just about make out the sound of her ringtone below them. Jo rushed to the edge and peered over, where she could see Beatrice laid face down on the river bed.

"Bea? Beatrice!" She yelled. Beatrice stirred and let out a soft moan to show she was awake. She lifted her head, her olive skin smeared with mud and her own blood.

"Take it easy." Dean yelled, dropping down to help her up.

"Where's Sam?" She muttered as she stood, putting her weight on him.

"I don't know, We've been looking for you. Come on, get up." With a little help from Jo, he half carried, half dragged her into the bar. Jo sat her at a table and started working on getting the bullet out. Beatrice winced and let out a little noise of discomfort.

"Don't be a baby!"

"God!"

"Almost. Alright, got it. Got it." She dropped the blood stained bullet into a clear glass of alcohol. Beatrice shuddered, taking a long drink of whisky from the bottle in her hand.

"God, you're a butcher."

"You're welcome." Jo said sarcastically, wrapping a clean bandage around Beatrice's arm.

"All right, are we done?"

"Would you give me two minutes to patch you up? You can't help Sam if you're bleeding to death. So, how did you know? That he was possessed?"

"Uh, I didn't, I just knew that it couldn't have been him. And the name thing, it was too obvious. The whole time I've known him, he's never once called me Beatrice. It's always been Bea."

"Hey, Beatrice?"

"Yeah?"

"I know demons lie, but do they ever tell the truth too?"

"Uh, um, yeah, sometimes, I guess. Especially if they know it'll mess with your head. Why do you ask?" Beatrice raised her eyebrows in question.

"Nothing. Doesn't matter. So do you have any idea where he's headed to next?"

"Well, so far he's been going after the nearest hunter, so…" She trailed off to think, "closest one I know lives in South Dakota."

"Okay good, I'm done. Let's go."

"Yeah. You're not coming." Dean laughed.

"The hell I'm not. I'm a part of this now."

"I can't say it more plain than this. You try to follow us and I'll tie you right back to that post and leave you here. This is our fight. We're not getting your blood on my hands. That's just how it's gonna be." The pair turned to leave, but Jo stopped them.

"Wait. Here. Take these, they'll help with the pain." She tossed Beatrice a bright orange bottle of prescription pills.

"Thanks."

"I'll call you later, okay?" Dean promised Jo, then they left.

It was raining again when they pulled up outside Bobby's house. Beatrice had been quiet for the whole journey and it was starting to worry Dean. "Bea?" He said carefully.

"What?"

"Are you.. okay?"

"Never better, actually." She said sarcastically. She got out of the car and Dean tried the door, but the handle wouldn't move. He stared at her as realization set in and she grinned at him through the window, holding up the keys.

Dean cried out in frustration. "Dammit Bea!"

"Sorry, Dean-o. This is my fight." She went over to the house and only had to knock once before Bobby answered the door. "How is he?" She asked slowly.

"Fine. Knocked him out." Bobby said proudly.

"Nice work." She grinned. Bobby pulled her into a hug.

"It's good to see you, sugar." He held her tightly and she parted from him, smiling.

"You too, Bobby." He led her into the lounge where Sam was slumped unconscious in a chair. "Hey!" She slapped his face hard. He groaned, and stirred. A smirk split his face when he saw her.

"Beatrice. back from the dead. Getting to be a regular thing for you, isn't it? Like a cockroach."

"How about I smack that smartass right out of your mouth?"

"Oh, careful, now. Wouldn't want to bruise this fine packaging." He grinned. She picked up a bucket of holy water and splashed Sam.

"Oh don't worry, this isn't gonna hurt Sam much. You, on the other hand.." Sam screamed in pain, shuddering as the water made contact with his skin. "Feel like talking now?"

"Sam's still my meat puppet. I'll make him bite off his tongue."

"No, you won't be in him long enough. Bobby."

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis incursio-" Bobby read aloud, glaring at Sam.

"See, whatever master plan you demons are cooking up? You're not getting Sam. You understand me? Because I'm gonna kill every one of you first." Beatrice said over the exorcism. The demon wriggled in pain, then stopped like it had been mocking them and cackled gleefully. Bobby trailed off, his brow creased with confusion.

"You really think that's what this is about? The master plan? I don't give a rat's ass about the master plan."

"Humiliares sub potente magnu dei..." Bobby went on.

"Oops. Doesn't seem to be working. See, I learned a few new tricks. Spiritus in mundus, un glorum, suarum, umutite, palatum, iram domine.." Sam started to speak in Latin, head lowered. The flames in the fireplace behind him flickered and the room shook as he continued to speak.

"This isn't going like I pictured! What's going on, Bobby?" She cried.

"It's a binding link! It's like a lock! He's locked himself inside Sam's body!"

"What the hell do we do?"

"I don't know!" Sam threw his head back and above him, the devil's trap cracked.

"There. That's better." He smirked. He jerked his head to the left so Bobby flew into the wall. He looked at Beatrice and grinned, and she was thrown back, sliding down the wall and she slumped awkwardly on the floor, frozen in place.

"You know when people want to describe the worse possible thing? They say it's like hell." Sam knelt in front of there, sliding his hand around her neck, using his other hand to punch her in the face. "You know there's a reason for that. Hell is like, um, Well, it's like hell. Even for demons." He hit her again.

She reached desperately for Sam's shirt, not trying to stop him, but trying to reach him. To bring him back. "It's a prison, made of bone and flesh and blood and fear; and you sent me back there."

"Meg."

"No. Not anymore. Now I'm Sam," he dug his thumb into Beatrice's bullet wound, laughing when she screamed, "by the way. I saw your sister down there, she says "howdy". All that I had to hold onto was that I would climb out one day, and that I was going to torture you, nice and slow. Like pulling the wings off an insect. But whatever I do to you, it's nothing compared to what you'll do to yourself, is it? I can see it in your eyes, Beatrice. You're worthless. You couldn't save your sister, and deep down you know that you can't save your boyfriend. They'd have been better off without you."

Sam reared up to hit her again, but Bobby came up behind him and pressed a burning poker to the binding mark. Sam fell back on his knees, black smoke billowing from his mouth.

"Sammy?" Beatrice whispered.

"Did I miss anything?" He asked tiredly. Beatrice growled, hitting Sam hard in the face before falling back against the wall again, exhausted.

It was the knocking that awoke Beatrice. The knocking, then the sound of people talking.

"Hey. It's past your checkout." Someone said.

"What?" Dean said groggily as he pushed himself into a sitting position. Beatrice's eyes fluttered open and she groaned loudly. There was a dull throbbing pain in her arm, though she was pleased to see the flow of blood had stopped.

"It's past checkout, and I've got a couple here needs your room." An embarrassed businessman was stood behind the manager with a woman who was dressed in very revealing clothing.

"Yeah, I'll bet they do. What time is it?"

"Twelve-thirty."

"That guy who was with us, have you seen him?" Beatrice said as she got shakily to her feet.

"Yeah, he left before dawn in your car, and you should have gone with him, because now I'm going to have to charge you extra."

"Oh, son of a-"

"It's just policy, ma'am."

"I need to use your computer." She said.

"Now, why would I let you use my computer?"

Beatrice sat in front of the reception computer, phone balanced between her ear and shoulder while she typed furiously with both hands.

"Hi, uh, so sorry to bother you, but uh, my son snuck out of the house last night and, uh, went to a Justin Timberlake concert... What? Yeah. No, Justin is quite the triple threat. Uh, anyway, he's not back yet, and, and I'm just, I'm starting to worry... Right. Yeah, boys will be boys. But see, Sammy is a diabetic, and uh, if he doesn't get his insulin, I just, I have to find him. Please, I'm begging you. Yeah, no, no, no, I"mon the web site right now, I just need to activate the GDS in his cell phone.. Yeah, right there. Duluth, Minnesota. Yeah, that is a long way to go for a concert. I appreciate your help.."

She hung up and looked up at Dean. "Duluth. Let's go."

Beatrice flung the bar doors open. "Sam!" His head snapped up and he snarled. Jo was tied to a post, a bandanna gagging her mouth.

"I begged you to stop me, guys." He said calmly, holding the knife to Jo's throat.

"Put the knife down, dammit." Dean cried.

"I told you I can't fight it! My head feels like it's on fire, all right? Beatrice. Kill me, or I'm going to kill her. Please. You've be doing me a favor! Shoot me. Shoot me!" He turned to Beatrice, arms spread crucifixion style like he was going to give her a hug.

"No, Sammy, come on." She turned away, gun lowered.

"What the hell's wrong with you, Beatrice? Are you that scared of being alone that you'd rather let Jo die?" He taunted her. Beatrice lunged forward suddenly, splashing Sam with holy water.

He screeched, his skin fizzing. "That's holy water, you demonic son of a bitch! You think for one second I thought it was him? He never calls me Beatrice. Do your damn research." Sam raised his head to reveal deep black eyes. He ran towards the window and jumped, the glass smashing as he tumbled out.

"Dean, help Jo. I'll get him." She said,

Reloading her gun, Beatrice fled from the bar, chasing the demon out to a warehouse by a dock. She couldn't see him, but she heard his voice echo through the shelves. "So who are you?" She called.

"I got lots of names."

"You've been in Sam since he disappeared, haven't you?"

"You should have seen your face when you thought he murdered that guy. Pathetic."

"Why didn't you kill Dean and I? You had a dozen chances."

"No, that would have been too easy. Where's the fun in that? See, this was a test. Wanted to see if I could push you far enough to waste Sam. Should have known you wouldn't have the sac. Anyway. Fun's over now."

"Well, I hope you got your kicks. Because you're gonna pay hell for this, I'm gonna make sure of that." She smiled coldly.

"How? You can't hurt me. Not without hurting your little boyfriend. See, I think you're gonna die, Beatrice. You and Dean every other hunter I can find. One look into Sam's dewey, sensitive eyes? They'll let me right in their door."

She followed him out to an open air dock where the night masked her vision. Before her eyes could adjust, Sam came up behind her, hitting her in the back of the head. Her knees collapsed beneath her and with a second blow to her head, she slumped down, out cold.

Sam kicked her lifeless body into the water below where she fell completely still.

Half an hour passed before Dean and Jo wandered along the dock, searching for Beatrice. Unable to spot her he pulled out his cell phone, dialling her number. "This is Beatrice, leave a message!" He groaned and hung up, before trying again a few moments later.

To his surprise he could just about make out the sound of her ringtone below them. Jo rushed to the edge and peered over, where she could see Beatrice laid face down on the river bed.

"Bea? Beatrice!" She yelled. Beatrice stirred and let out a soft moan to show she was awake. She lifted her head, her olive skin smeared with mud and her own blood.

"Take it easy." Dean yelled, dropping down to help her up.

"Where's Sam?" She muttered as she stood, putting her weight on him.

"I don't know, We've been looking for you. Come on, get up." With a little help from Jo, he half carried, half dragged her into the bar. Jo sat her at a table and started working on getting the bullet out. Beatrice winced and let out a little noise of discomfort.

"Don't be a baby!"

"God!"

"Almost. Alright, got it. Got it." She dropped the blood stained bullet into a clear glass of alcohol. Beatrice shuddered, taking a long drink of whisky from the bottle in her hand.

"God, you're a butcher."

"You're welcome." Jo said sarcastically, wrapping a clean bandage around Beatrice's arm.

"All right, are we done?"

"Would you give me two minutes to patch you up? You can't help Sam if you're bleeding to death. So, how did you know? That he was possessed?"

"Uh, I didn't, I just knew that it couldn't have been him. And the name thing, it was too obvious. The whole time I've known him, he's never once called me Beatrice. It's always been Bea."

"Hey, Beatrice?"

"Yeah?"

"I know demons lie, but do they ever tell the truth too?"

"Uh, um, yeah, sometimes, I guess. Especially if they know it'll mess with your head. Why do you ask?" Beatrice raised her eyebrows in question.

"Nothing. Doesn't matter. So do you have any idea where he's headed to next?"

"Well, so far he's been going after the nearest hunter, so…" She trailed off to think, "closest one I know lives in South Dakota."

"Okay good, I'm done. Let's go."

"Yeah. You're not coming." Dean laughed.

"The hell I'm not. I'm a part of this now."

"I can't say it more plain than this. You try to follow us and I'll tie you right back to that post and leave you here. This is our fight. We're not getting your blood on my hands. That's just how it's gonna be." The pair turned to leave, but Jo stopped them.

"Wait. Here. Take these, they'll help with the pain." She tossed Beatrice a bright orange bottle of prescription pills.

"Thanks."

"I'll call you later, okay?" Dean promised Jo, then they left.

It was raining again when they pulled up outside Bobby's house. Beatrice had been quiet for the whole journey and it was starting to worry Dean. "Bea?" He said carefully.

"What?"

"Are you.. okay?"

"Never better, actually." She said sarcastically. She got out of the car and Dean tried the door, but the handle wouldn't move. He stared at her as realization set in and she grinned at him through the window, holding up the keys.

Dean cried out in frustration. "Dammit Bea!"

"Sorry, Dean-o. This is my fight." She went over to the house and only had to knock once before Bobby answered the door. "How is he?" She asked slowly.

"Fine. Knocked him out." Bobby said proudly.

"Nice work." She grinned. Bobby pulled her into a hug.

"It's good to see you, sugar." He held her tightly and she parted from him, smiling.

"You too, Bobby." He led her into the lounge where Sam was slumped unconscious in a chair. "Hey!" She slapped his face hard. He groaned, and stirred. A smirk split his face when he saw her.

"Beatrice. back from the dead. Getting to be a regular thing for you, isn't it? Like a cockroach."

"How about I smack that smartass right out of your mouth?"

"Oh, careful, now. Wouldn't want to bruise this fine packaging." He grinned. She picked up a bucket of holy water and splashed Sam.

"Oh don't worry, this isn't gonna hurt Sam much. You, on the other hand.." Sam screamed in pain, shuddering as the water made contact with his skin. "Feel like talking now?"

"Sam's still my meat puppet. I'll make him bite off his tongue."

"No, you won't be in him long enough. Bobby."

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis incursio-" Bobby read aloud, glaring at Sam.

"See, whatever master plan you demons are cooking up? You're not getting Sam. You understand me? Because I'm gonna kill every one of you first." Beatrice said over the exorcism. The demon wriggled in pain, then stopped like it had been mocking them and cackled gleefully. Bobby trailed off, his brow creased with confusion.

"You really think that's what this is about? The master plan? I don't give a rat's ass about the master plan."

"Humiliares sub potente magnu dei..." Bobby went on.

"Oops. Doesn't seem to be working. See, I learned a few new tricks. Spiritus in mundus, un glorum, suarum, umutite, palatum, iram domine.." Sam started to speak in Latin, head lowered. The flames in the fireplace behind him flickered and the room shook as he continued to speak.

"This isn't going like I pictured! What's going on, Bobby?" She cried.

"It's a binding link! It's like a lock! He's locked himself inside Sam's body!"

"What the hell do we do?"

"I don't know!" Sam threw his head back and above him, the devil's trap cracked.

"There. That's better." He smirked. He jerked his head to the left so Bobby flew into the wall. He looked at Beatrice and grinned, and she was thrown back, sliding down the wall and she slumped awkwardly on the floor, frozen in place.

"You know when people want to describe the worse possible thing? They say it's like hell." Sam knelt in front of there, sliding his hand around her neck, using his other hand to punch her in the face. "You know there's a reason for that. Hell is like, um, Well, it's like hell. Even for demons." He hit her again.

She reached desperately for Sam's shirt, not trying to stop him, but trying to reach him. To bring him back. "It's a prison, made of bone and flesh and blood and fear; and you sent me back there."

"Meg."

"No. Not anymore. Now I'm Sam," he dug his thumb into Beatrice's bullet wound, laughing when she screamed, "by the way. I saw your sister down there, she says "howdy". All that I had to hold onto was that I would climb out one day, and that I was going to torture you, nice and slow. Like pulling the wings off an insect. But whatever I do to you, it's nothing compared to what you'll do to yourself, is it? I can see it in your eyes, Beatrice. You're worthless. You couldn't save your sister, and deep down you know that you can't save your boyfriend. They'd have been better off without you."

Sam reared up to hit her again, but Bobby came up behind him and pressed a burning poker to the binding mark. Sam fell back on his knees, black smoke billowing from his mouth.

"Sammy?" Beatrice whispered.

"Did I miss anything?" He asked tiredly. Beatrice growled, hitting Sam hard in the face before falling back against the wall again, exhausted.

"Right. And that's how it really happened." Sam snapped. Dean shrugged.

"We don't sound like that, Dean!" Beatrice added.

"That's what you both sound like to me." He insisted, smirking at them both. Beatrice rolled her eyes, reclining on her bed.

"Okay. What's going on with you three?" Bobby sighed.

"Nothing. Noth- it's nothing." Beatrice protested.

"No, come on. You're bickering like an old married couple."

"No, see married couples can get divorced. We're like, uh, Siamese triplets." Dean chuckled.

"It's conjoined triplets!"

"See what I mean?" Beatrice took a deep breath, then looked up again.

"Okay."

"So anyway. We figured it might be a haunting, so we went to check out the scene of the crime." Sam continued.

_The Janitor led the trio up into the professor's office. They were posing as electricians, rewiring the office. "So, how long have you been working here?" Beatrice asked curiously. _

_"I've been mopping this floor for six years. There you go, guys," he paused, seeing Sam's EMF reader, "what the heck's that for?"_

_"Just find a wire in the walls."_

_"Huh. Wow. Not sure why you're wiring up this office. Not gonna do the professor much good." _

_"Why's that?" Dean frowned. _

_"He's dead."_

_"Oh. What happened?"_

_"He went out that window. Right there."_

_"Yeah? Were you working that night?" Beatrice asked, raising an eyebrow. _

_"I'm the one who found him."_

_"You see it happen?" Dean spotted a bowl of nuts on the table behind Beatrice and crammed at least two in his mouth._

_"No. I just saw him come up here, and uh, well."_

_"What?"_

_"He wasn't alone." He said awkwardly. Dean nodded and laughed knowingly his face stuffed with nuts. He had the bowl clutched in his hand as though it were sacred. _

"Come on! I ate one, maybe two!" Dean protested, glaring at Sam who shrugged.

"Just let me tell it, okay?"

_"He was with a young lady. I told the cops about her, but uh, I guess they never found her." The janitor continued, looking at Dean oddly. _

_"You saw this girl go in, huh? Did you ever see her come out?" Beatrice looked interested now, to say the least._

_"Now that you mention it, no."_

_"You ever see her before, around?"_

_"Well, not her."_

_"What do you mean?" Dean asked, face still stuffed._

_"I don't mean to cast aspersions on a dead guy, but uh . . . Mister Morality? He brought a lot of girls up here. Got more ass than a toilet seat." Dean laughed delightedly at the Janitor's revelation._

_"One more thing. This building, it only has four stories, right?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"So there wouldn't be a room six-six-nine?"_

_"Course not. Why do you ask?"_

_"Aw, just curious. Thanks."_

_As they returned to their hotel that night, Beatrice collapsed onto the bed whilst Sam opened up his computer. "Well, no traces of EMF, that's for sure." He muttered as Dean handed him a beer. _

_"And the room six-six-nine's a load of crap."_

_"So what do you think? The professor's just a jumper? A legend's just a legend?" Beatrice asked, lighting up a cigarette. She prayed the smoke alarms didn't go off. _

_"I don't know. I mean, the uh, girl the janitor described, that's pretty weird."_

_"Yeah.."_

_"We oughta check out the history of the building. See if any co-ed ganked herself there."_

_"Yeah, you're right," Sam turned to the screen, then glared at Dean, "dude. Were you on my computer?"_

_"No." Dean said innocently._

_"Oh really? 'Cause it's frozen now. On uh, Busty asian . Dean! Would you... just… don't touch my stuff anymore, okay?"_

_"Why don't you control your O.C.D.?"_

Bobby stared at Sam as he finished the story. "But did you dig up anything about the building? Or on the suicidal co-ed?" He asked tiredly. Sam shook his head.

"No. History's clean."

"Then it's not a haunting."

"Maybe not. Tell you the truth, we're not really sure."

"What do you mean, you're not sure?"

"Well... it's weird."

"What's weird?!"

"This next part, we uh, we didn't see it happen ourselves exactly, but it's pretty friggin weird. Even for us."

"Aliens?" Bobby suggested jokingly.

"Yeah."

His face fell. "_Aliens_?"

"Yeah!"

"Look, even if they are real, they're sure as hell not coming to earth and swiping people."

"Hey, believe me. We know."

"My whole life i've never found evidence of an honest-to-God abduction. It's all just cranks and pranks."

"Yeah, that's what we thought. But...we figured we'd at least talk to the guy."

_Beatrice lingered beside the jock, Curtis, while Sam and Dean stood opposite. Curits had a line of shot glasses in from of him while Beatrice gingerly sipped her whiskey. She was the only one of the trio with a drink._

_"Hey, you ought to give those purple nurples a shot." Dean beamed. Sam glared at him._

_"So, what happened, curtis?"_

_"You won't believe me. Nobody does."_

_"Give us a chance."_

_"I, uh... I blacked out, and...I lost time, and when I woke up, I don't know where I was."_

_"Then what?"_

_"They did tests on me. And, uh... They, uh... They probed me." Beatrice turned her head away, struggling to stifle a laugh. She took a long drink of her whisky and sniggered into the bottle._

_"They probed you?"_

_"Yeah, they probed me. Again and a-again, again and… And again," he downed a shot, "and again and again and again... And then one more time."_

_"Yikes."_

_"And that's not even the worst of it."_

_"How could that get worse?"_

_"They... They made me... Slow dance!"_

"You guys are exaggerating again, huh?" Bobby smirked, eyeing the trio carefully.

"No, no."

"Then this frat boy's just nuts."

"Were not so sure." Beatrice admitted.

_The trio stared down at a large, circular scorch mark on the ground. Beatrice whistled. "I´m telling you, guys, this was made by some sort of jet engine."_

_"You mean some saucer-shaped jet engine?"_

_"What else could it be?"_

_"What the hell?" Sam muttered._

_"I don't know."_

_"Seriously Bea, what the hell?"_

_"I don't know!"_

_"I mean, first the haunting. Now this? The timing alone, there's got to be some kind of connection." Sam continued with a sigh._

_"You mean between the angry spirit and the sexed-Up E.T.? What could the connection possibly be?" Dean laughed._

"But what could we do? So we just kept on digging." Dean shrugged, glancing at Bobby who was staring at him in what seemed to be disbelief.

_"So, you and this guy, Curtis, you were in the same house?" Sam said to the college student, who nodded, feigning disinterest that Beatrice saw right through._

_"Yeah."_

_"You heard what happened to him, right?"_

_"Yeah, he says it was aliens, but, you know, whatever."_

_"Look, man, I… I know this all has to be so hard." Sam said, exaggerated concern apparent in his voice. There seemed to be tears sparkling in his eyes._

_"Um, not so much."_

_"But I want you to know... I'm here for you. You brave little soldier. I acknowledge your pain. Come here," he pulled the student into a tight hug, "too precious for this world!"_

"I never said that!" Sam snapped, glaring at his brother.

Dean shrugged. "You're always saying pansy stuff like that."

_Sam released the student, smiling earnestly. The student laughed nervously._

_"Well, um... Yeah, uh, thanks. Thanks for the hug, but, uh, I'm okay. Really. To tell you the truth, whatever happened to Curtis, he had it coming."_

_Beatrice frowned. "Why is that?"_

_"He's our pledge master. Put us through hell this semester, and got off on it. So now he knows how we feel." Sam gasped in over dramatic sadness._

_Dean rolled his eyes. "It's okay."_

_Back in the hotel room that night, the trio were discussing the suicide and abduction. "Still doesn't make a lick of sense. But, hey, at least there's one connection." Dean grinned. Beatrice glanced at him, eyebrows raised in question._

_"Between what?"_

_"The victims. The professor and the frat guy. They're both dickss."_

_"_That's_ a connection?"_

_"You got anything better to go on? I'd love to hear it." While he spoke, Sam rummaged in his back, a frown hardening his features._

_"Where's my laptop?"_

_"I don't know." Dean shrugged. "Think about it. A philandering professor gets a dead girl. A pledge master gets hazed."_

_"I left it in here."_

_"You obviously didn't. I mean, these punishments, they're almost poetic. Actually, it'd be more like a limerick, but still-"_

_"Okay, hilarious. Ha ha. Where'd you hide it?" Sam straightened up, glaring at Dean._

_"What, your computer?"_

_"Yeah, where'd you hide it?"_

_"Why would I hide your computer?"_

_"Because no one else could have. We keep the door locked. We never let any maids in."_

_"Looks like you lost it, Poindexter. Or it was Bea."_

_Beatrice rolled her eyes. "Yes Dean, because I often make a point of stealing people's computers." She said sarcastically._

_"Dude, you know something? I put up with a lot from you." Sam growled._

_"What are you talking about? I'm a joy to be around." Dean grinned._

_"Yeah? Your dirty socks in the sink, your food in the fridge."_

_"What's wrong with my food?"_

_"It's not food anymore, Dean! It's Darwinism. All I ask from you, the one thing, is that you don't mess with my stuff!"_

_"You done?"_

_"You know, how would you feel if I screwed with the Impala?"_

_"It would be the last thing you ever did."_

"Did you take his computer?" Bobby asked Dean, who shook his head.

"Serves him right, but, no." Bobby turned to Beatrice.

"Did you?"

"No!."

"Well, I didn't lose it. 'Cause i don't lose things." Sam sighed irritably.

"Oh, that's right, because he's Mr. Perfect." Beatrice mumbled, earning a glare from Sam.

"Okay, okay. Why don't you just tell me what happened next?"

"There was one more victim. Now, we didn't see this one ourselves, either. We kind of put it together from the evidence. But this guy, he was a research scientist. Animal testing."

Beatrice continued. "Yeah, you know, a dick. Which fits the pattern."

_Beatrice stuck her knife into the window latch, sticking her tongue out in concentration as she jiggled it, trying to force it open. Eventually it slid free and she climbed through, motioning for the brothers to follow her._

_"Hey." She muttered to Sam, who tossed her a flashlight._

_She caught it without even looking, opening the drawer which contained the body. She grimaced as she pulled the blanket back. "Well, this ought to be quick."_

_Dean looked at her questioningly. She pulled back the blanket a little more to reveal a pile of bloody, mangled remains._

_"OK, That is just nasty." He muttered._

_"Uh, yeah." Sam cringed._

_"Mutilated?"_

_"Looks to me like something was hungry."_

_"They identify him yet?"_

_"Yeah. A research scientist at the college. Guess where his office was, by the way. Crawford Hall, same as the professor."_

_"That's right where the frat boy had his close encounter." _

_"What is it?" Dean asked._

_"Looks like... A belly scale."_

_"A belly scale? From what?"_

_"Uh... An alligator."_

_"An alligator in the sewer. Come on!"_

_"What? Well, Dean, it's a classic urban legend. A kid flushes a baby gator down the toilet, and it grows huge in the tunnels."_

_"But no one's ever really found one. They're not real."_

_"Neither's alien abduction, but something chomped on this guy."_

_"This couldn't get any weirder."_

_"Maybe we should get some help. I'll call Bobby. Maybe he's run into something like this before." Sam muttered, pulling out his phone._

_"Oh, I'm sure he has. Just your typical haunted campus, Alien abduction, alligator-in-the-sewer gig. Yeah, it's simple."_

_"You think this is funny?" The door hit the wall as it was thrown open and Dean yelled the words when he entered the room. Beatrice looked up from her book._

_"Depends. What?"_

_"The car!"_

_"What about the car?"_

_"You can't let the air out of the tires. You're gonna bend the rims!"_

_"Whoa, wait a minute. I didn't go near your car."_

_"Oh, yeah? Huh. Then how'd I find this?" He held up Beatrice's purse. She frowned, patted her pockets, and stood._

_"Hey, give me back my money."_

_"Oh, no, no. Consider it reparations. For, uh, emotional trauma."_

_"Yeah, very funny. Now give it back!" She reached out for it._

_"No!"_

_"Dean, I have had it up to here with you!"_

_"Yeah, right back at you." He snapped. Beatrice growled and lunged at him, knocking him on the bed with her on top. "Get off me!" Dean yelled, struggling against Beatrice's iron grip._

_"Give it back!"_

Bobby scowled. "Okay, I've heard enough."

"You showed up about an hour after that." Dean sighed, still glaring at Beatrice who was avoiding his gaze but her expression was fiery.

"I'm surprised at you three. I really am. Sam, first off, Dean did not steal your computer."

"But I-"

"And Dean, Beatrice did not touch your car. And if you three bothered to pull your heads out of your asses, it all would have been pretty clear."

"What?"

"What you're dealing with?"

"Uh..."

"I got nothing."

"Me neither." The two brothers shrugged, clueless.

"We've got a trickster on our hands." Beatrice announced, looking triumphant.

"That's what I thought." Dean agreed.

"What? No, you didn't."

"I got to tell you... you guys were the biggest clue."

"What do you mean?"

"These things create chaos and mischief as easy as breathing, and it's got you so turned around and at each other's throats, you can't even think straight."

"The laptop, and the tires." Sam sighed.

"It knows you're onto him, and it's been playing you like fiddles."

"So, what is it, spirit, demon, what?" Dean asked.

Beatrice rolled her eyes as if he was stupid. "Well, more like demigods, really. There's Loki in scandinavia. There's Anansi in west africa. Dozens of them. They're immortal, and they can create things out of thin air. Things as real as you and me. Make them vanish just as quick."

"You mean like an angry spirit or an alien or an alligator."

"The victims fit the M.O, too. Tricksters target the high and the mighty, knock them down a peg, usually with a sense of humor, deadly pranks, things like that." Bobby nodded.

"Bobby, what do these things look like?"

"Lots of things, but humans mostly."

"And what human do we know who's been at ground zero this whole time?" Beatrice smirked, getting to her feet. The brothers looked clueless so she rolled her eyes. "The janitor!"

"Sorry I'm dragging a little ass today, boys. Had quite the night last night. Lots of sex, if you catch my drift." The Janitor said with a smirk as he led them through the corridors.

Beatrice rolled her eyes. "Yeah, hard not to. Listen, we won't be long. We just need to check a couple offices up on 3."

"No problem."

"I, uh, forgot something in the truck. Guys, you wanna gimme a hand?" Sam chuckled, shaking his head in mock amusement.

Dean nodded. "Okay."

"Just 'cause he reads the Weekly World News doesn't mean he's our guy. You read it, too." Sam sighed as they left the building.

"I'm telling you, it's him."

"Look, I just think we need some hard proof. That's all."

"Another thing Bobby mentioned was that these suckers have a metabolism like an insect, a real sweet tooth." Beatrice mentioned, getting into the back of the Impala.

"I didn't find any candy bars or sugar. Not even Equal."

"Probably missed something."

"I don't miss things." Beatrice shot him a sharp look, narrowing her eyes.

"Oh, right. Because you're oh so perfect."

"What? Are you really still annoyed at me Because of what the trickster did?" She asked, rolling her eyes.

"You been a tight ass long before that trickster showed up."

"Look, just...stay here, keep an eye on the janitor. I'll go to his place to see if I can find any actual evidence before you go barging in and staking the man! Just wait till I get back, okay? Okay?" She sighed. Dean nodded irritably.

"Okay!"

As Beatrice arrived back, she immediately knew something was wrong. She went into the building, tucking her long blonde hair over one shoulder. A cold, uneasy feeling had settled in the pit of her stomach. She travelled down the corridors, checking in every room for the brothers. She reached the last door, a closet, and pushed it open. Inside was Sam, and another woman.

They were kissing and he had one hand pushed up her shirt, and one of her legs was hooked around his waist. He didn't look up even when Beatrice let out a strangled sob. "Sam?"

She backed away from the door and slammed it hard, staggering backwards until her back collided with someone's chest. She whirled around and came face to face with the janitor. "What's wrong, kiddo?" He asked, and she immediately poured her heart out.

He opened his arms, and without really thinking, Beatrice collapsed into them, crying into the warm comfort of his shirt. "If it's any consolation," he mumbled against her hair, "I thought you were beautiful from the moment I first saw you." It registered suddenly what he was trying to do and Beatrice stumbled backwards, her eyes wide.

"Stop it." She cried. "Just stop it!" Her voice rose to a yell. Sam rushed around the corner, hearing her yell.

"Hey! Leave her alone!" He tried to take Beatrice's hand but she snatched it back.

"Stay away from me."

"Bea, what's gotten into you, I-"

Beatrice shook her head and, not wanting him to see her cry, she ran, straight to the auditorium where she found Dean. He was sat in the audience, suspiciously eyeing two half naked women centre stage on a large bed. Beatrice collapsed into the seat next to him.

"They're a peace offering. I know what you and your brother do. I've been around awhile. Run into your kind before." The trickster said somewhere behind them.

Beatrice turned and saw him sat in the row behind, his feet propped up on the back of her chair.

"Well, then you know that I can't let you just keep hurting people." Dean smiled sarcastically, getting to his feet.

"Come on! Those people got what was coming to them. Hoisted on their own petards. But you and Sam and Beatrice, I like you. I do. Especially you, Bea. So treat yourself... Long as you want. Just long enough for me to move on to the next town."

"Yeah, I don't think I can let you do that." Beatrice snarled.

"I don't want to hurt you, Beatrice. You know that I can."

"Really? Because you weren't saying that five minutes ago."

"Look, man. I gotta tell you," Dean interrupted, "I dig your style, alright? I mean, I do. I mean, the slow dancing alien-"

"One of my personal favourites. Yeah."

"But uh, we can't let you go."

"Too bad. Like I said, I like you. Sam was right. You shouldn't have come alone."

"Well, I'll agree with you there." As Dean spoke, the door above them slammed and clicked locked. Autumn looked up to see Sam and Bobby, both armed with large wooden stakes. The trickster paused, smiling.

"That fight you guys had outside, that was a trick? Hmm. Not bad. But you want to see a real trick?" A masked man with a chainsaw appeared behind Sam. Beatrice's eyes widened.

"Sammy! Look out!" He turned and swerved to the side, just before the chainsaw split his skull. The brunette woman jumped on Dean, snarling aggressively in his face. Beatrice cried out as the blonde pounced on her, her long manicured nails pinning her to the seat, cutting into her shoulders. The trickster laughed, getting to his feet.

"Nice toss, ladies! Dean, Dean, Dean," he hovered over him as Sam tossed Beatrice his stake, "I did not want to have to do this."

"Me either." Beatrice smirked. With one swift movement, she'd pushed the blonde away and stabbed the trickster in the chest. He slumped back against the velvet seat, dead. The masked man and the women disappeared.

"You guys okay?" Dean called to Sam and Bobby, who nodded.

Bobby glanced at Autumn. "A word."

Frowning, Beatrice followed him to the opposite side of the room, out of earshot of the brothers. "Bea, what did you see that made you angry at Sam?" He asked gently. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words died in her throat and she could only shake her head mutely. "Bea, please?"

"He… He cheated on me Bobby." She whispered.

"Oh, Bea." He pulled her into a tight hug. "Sam didn't cheat on you. It was a trick designed to break your solidarity. The Trickster didn't feel anything for you, he wanted to mess with you."

"R-Really?"

"Really. Now go and talk to him." She nodded and crossed the room again to were Sam was sat, looking down at his hands.

"Sam?"

"Mm?" He didn't look up.

"I'm sorry... For running out on you like that."

"It's okay. I'd have done the same thing." He got to his feet. "It wasn't your fault, okay?." He got to his feet and held her tightly to him, his arms snaking around her slim waist. Reaching only five foot two inches, Beatrice had to stand on her tiptoes to hug him properly. Sam's nose nuzzled her neck and he he closed his eyes, just enjoying the moment.

That night, as Beatrice slept, Sam couldn't.

He was too busy concentrating on her, the little things that made Beatrice, well, Beatrice.

She always smelt like the smoke that danced on her lips, like the strawberry shampoo she used every morning, like the cinnamon she dusted on her breakfast. As he watched her sleep, she stirred slightly, staring up at him with wide sleepy eyes. He noticed the thin line of freckles that were scattered across her tanned cheeks. "Sam?"

"It's okay, Baby. I'm right here. Go back to sleep." And she did, sliding her arms securely around his torso. She snored gently, and Sam smiled, kissing the tip of her nose. Moments like that, Sam thought, where better than anything else they could have done.

"First opened in 1927, the lot has been in continuous operation for eight decades." The tour guide said monotonously through a headseat, guiding the mini golf kart through endless TV and movie sets. Dean turned to a kid beside him.

"Hey, you know this is where they filmed Creepshow?" The boy ignored him.

"Now, to the right, here is Stars Hollow. It's the setting for the television series, Gilmore Girls. And if we're lucky, we might even catch one of the show's stars." The guide continued.

"Come on." Sam mumbled, looking uncomfortable.

"Let's finish the tour." Dean begged, but Beatrice and Sam had already jumped off the kart.

Dean groaned. "Dean!" Beatrice snapped. Rolling his eyes, Dean obediently jumped off the kart.

"Bea, check it out, it's Matt Damon!" Dean said excitedly.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's not Matt Damon."

"No, it is."

"Well, Matt Damon has just picked up a broom and started sweeping."

"Yeah, well he's probably researching a role or something."

"I don't think so," Beatrice sighed. For the oldest of the three, Dean often acted like the youngest but Beatrice simply found it endearing, "hey, this way. I think stage 9 is over here."

"Come on, let's keep going this way." Dean said again, looking at her pleadingly.

Autumn rolled her eyes. "No, come on. We've got to work. You wanted to come to LA!"

"Yeah, for a vacation. I mean swimming pools and movie stars. Not to work!"

"This seem like swimming pool weather to you, Dean? This is practically Canadian." Sam sighed, visibly tired.

Beatrice grabbed his hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. He'd been unnaturally quiet since he'd had to shoot the young wolf, Maddison. She seemed nice, and Beatrice had liked her, but a job is a job. No matter what.

"Yeah. I just figured that after everything that happened with Madison, you could use a little R-and-R, that's all." Dean shrugged, bringing up Beatrice's thoughts as if reading her mind.

"Well, maybe I wanna work, Dean. Maybe it keeps my mind off things."

"Okay, okay. Alright. So this crew guy-he died on set?"

"Yeah, rumors spreading like wildfire online saying the set's haunted."

"Like poltergeist?"

"Yeah, it could be a poltergeist." Sam nodded.

Beatrice looked at him in disbelief. "No, no. Like the movie. Poltergeist," when he only offered her a bewildered look, she rolled her eyes, "you know nothing of your cultural heritage, do you? It was rumored that the set of Poltergeist was cursed. That they used real human bones as props. And, like, at least three of the actors died in it."

"Yeah, it might be something like that." Sam nodded.

"Alright, so this crew guy. What was his name?"

"Frank Jaffey."

"Frank Jaffey? He got a death certificate or a coroner's report or anything?"

"Well, no. But it's LA, you know? It might not even be his real name. But the girl who found him said she saw something, a vanishing figure."

"What's the girl's name?" Dean asked, interrupting the peaceful silence he had been maintaining.

"Tara Benchley." Beatrice replied, raising an eyebrow when Dean's eyes widened.

"Whoa, whoa, Tara Benchley? From FeardotCom and Ghost Ship, Tara Benchley? Dude, why didn't you say so?"

"So now you're suddenly on board?" She smirked.

"Oh, I mean, I'm just a fan of her work. She's very good." He grinned to himself and walked off, leaving the other two alone with their thoughts.

As they entered stage 9, a man in a ridiculous hawaii beach shirt beckoned Beatrice over. "Uh, excuse me. China Doll! Yeah, you. Come here." He clicked his fingers infuriatingly. Beatrice resisted the urge to slap him and went over. "Can you get me a smoothie from Kraft?"

"You want a what from who?"

"You are a P.A? This is what you do." Sam rushed up to Beatrice's aid, placing a hand on her shoulder to stop her lunging at the man.

"Yeah, yeah… Uh, one smoothie coming right up." He said calmly. Beatrice scowled as Sam led her away towards where they presumed the smoothies would be.

"China Doll.. Who does he think he is?!" She narrowed her eyes. "I mean, I'm not even Chinese! I'm _Korean_."

"What's a P.A.?" Dean asked as he caught up with the pair.

"I think they're kinda like slaves." Beatrice grumbled, glaring at the man as he winked suggestively at her. She felt Sam's arm tighten around her waist and she leaned into him.

"They'll let anybody in this business, huh?" The man laughed to his colleague, and it took all of Sam's strength to restrain her from wringing his neck.

Later on, the set was bustling with people getting ready to start shooting. "Why don't we take it from, "Come on, it'll be fun." And, action!" The actors were stood in the set of an abandoned house.

"Come on, it'll be fun." One of the girls smiled. Beatrice decided this was Tara, judging by the way Dean was eyeing her. She started reading in very choppy latin.

"Maybe we'll finish this up tomorrow." The same man who'd yelled action murmured. Tara frowned, breaking her character's cheery demure.

"Oh my god, I hate you so much right now."

"Cut! Very nice." He smiled as the actors left the set.

Sam and Beatrice found Dean at the smoothie stall, checking the EMF. "So?" Beatrice asked quietly, raising an eyebrow.

"No EMF anywhere."

"Great. So, what do you think?"

"Well, I think being a P.A. sucks. But the food these people get, are you kidding me? Look at these things. They're like miniature Philly cheesesteak sandwiches. They're delicious." He held one out to Beatrice, who gratefully accepted. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until Dean brought up the subject of food. He held another one out to Sam, who shook his head.

"Maybe later."

"What'd you find out about the dead crew guy?" Dean asked.

"Frank Jaffey was just filling in for the day. Nobody here knew him or where he lived or anything." Sam sighed, looking irritable.

"Oh, great. So you found out about as much as I did."

"Not quite-" Beatrice started but she was interrupted as another man, Walter she thought his name was, came over.

"Hey, guys." He said cheerfully.

"Oh, hey." She watched Walter walk away with a sandwich. "They're wonderful!" She turned back to Dean. "Listen, I did dig up some stuff about Stage 9's history."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, four people died messy here over the past eighty years. Two suicides and two fatal accidents." She looked proud of herself having found this out.

"Any one of those could be a vengeful spirit."

"Yeah, we just gotta narrow it down more." She reached for another sandwich as Tara made her way over to the buffet table. Dean's eyes lit up, and Beatrice just didn't have the heart to tell him to calm down. It was actually quite nice to see at least one of them happy for once, and she wanted it to last for at least a little while.

"I'll get right on that."

Looking nervous, he made his way over to Tara, clutching a handful of sheets.

"Are you supposed to get one of these? I don't really know what I'm doing."

Tara looked up and smiled, running her eyes along Dean's body. Beatrice glanced at Sam, who was smirking.

"First day?" Tara continued.

"Yeah, big break," he chuckled, "you know, I know it's really uncool to say this, but I'm a big fan. I loved you in Boogeyman."

"Oh god, what a terrible script. But thank you."

"Yeah. You found him right, the dead guy? I'm sorry, you probably don't even wanna talk about this."

"No, no, actually. It's okay. Nobody around here really brings it up very much. I think they're all scared I'm gonna have some kind of breakdown."

"That must have been awful. What happened?"

"It was horrible. There was all this blood coming from his eyes and from his mouth. And, uh... I saw this, um..."

"What?"

"I saw this shape. To tell you the truth, I don't know actually what I saw. I just know I saw it." As Tara spoke, Walter approached and handed her a Snapple.

"Here you go Tara."

"Thanks, Walter." He left again.

"So, this crew guy, Frank, did you know him?" Dean continued, picking up another sandwich.

"No, not that well."

"It's funny, it's like no one around here actually knew the guy."

"I've got his picture." Tara admitted.

"Really? You do?"

"Yeah. I take Polaroids of all the crew. It's just one of those things you do to kill time on set," she flipped through a binder until she found the right one, "right there." Dean peered closer at the photograph, and his green eyes widened.

"Son of a bitch."

Beatrice rapped impatiently on the trailer door. Seconds later, a balding, middle aged man opened it. "Gerard St. James?" Dean smiled bitterly.

"Yes?"

"You're still alive. And you're not Frank Jaffey."

"Uh, no."

"You were Desert Soldier Number Four in Metalstorm: The Destruction of Jared-Syn?"

"I was."

"I knew I recognized you. I am a huge fan. I mean, your turn as a tractor crash victim in Critters 3?"

"Critters 3!"

"Wow, yeah."

"Well, please come in." Gerard stood aside to let the trio in.

Beatrice felt Sam's fingers lacing with hers and she smiled. They sat on the small leather sofa, Beatrice on Sam's lap because there wasn't enough room for all of them, when Gerard returned with coffee for each of them.

"Yeah, it was the producers. They brought me up for the day to play Frank." He mused.

"Just to fake your death?" Beatrice frowned, sipping her coffee. It scorched the roof of her mouth but she didn't mind.

"Well, rumors of a haunted film set, free publicity, especially when you're making a horror movie. It's already all over the Internet."

"Yeah. We know." Sam muttered.

"These days, it's all about new media, building buzz. They say I'm the new LonelyGirl."

"Who?"

"And the ghost Tara saw?" Beatrice's eyes narrowed.

"Projected on a screen of diffusion." Gerard grinned, looking pleased with himself.

"Isn't it kind of cruel? Messing with their heads like that?" She snapped.

"Hey, I just play the part. I don't write the script. Speaking of, I'm playing Willy in a dinner theatre production of Salesman at Costa Mesa, all next month. You get a free pepper steak with the coupon." He smiled.

"Now, wait a second. If you're seen in public, won't that ruin the hoax?"

"Oh, please. Frank and Willy? Totally different characters."

"You know what? Thanks very much, Mr. St. James. It was just nagging at us. But we're very glad... you know, you're alive and well." Sam chuckled.

"All right. Pepper steak." Dean said, leading the other two from the trailer. Beatrice narrowed her eyes as the door closed behind them.

"I don't like him."

"You're joking?!" Dean's eyes widened. "The guy's a legend!"

At the studio the next day, there was a silence amongst both cast and crew members. It was as if there was an unwritten rule. 'Don't mention the dead guy, whatever you do.' Dean returned after about ten minutes of talking to Walter. Beatrice was hanging about with Sam, picking the black polish from her nails. It had mostly chipped off anyway.

"Walter's a little testy for a P.A, huh?" He said as he approached them. Beatrice shrugged.

"How's it going in there?"

"It is going really good, man. Tara's really stepped up her performance. I think it's probably from all the sense memory stuff she's drawing on."

"Sense memory? Dean, you know when I ask how it's going in here, I'm talking about the case, right? We don't really work here. You know, I thought you hated being a P.A."

"I don't know. It's not so bad. I kind of feel like part of the team, you know?" He held out the plate he was holding in their general direction, "taquito? They're wonderful!"

"No. Umm.. Listen, We conned our way into the morgue."

"And?"

"News report was right. Brad's a doornail, no question."

"Copy that," he said into his headset, "I'm sorry, what?"

"Copy that?"

"What did you say?"

"The news reports were right. Brad's a doornail-"

"They are aware." Dean turned his attention back to the headset.

Beatrice scowled. "Who's aware?"

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"Uh.. The newspaper's right: Brad's a doornail, no question about it."

"I guess it's a good thing we didn't skip town."

"Yeah."

"Oh, come here. I want you to hear something." He led them both over to the sound guy, Dave. "Hey, Dave. Can you play him that thing you were playing me earlier?"

"Sure." Dave smiled, handing the three a pair of earphones each.

"Thanks." Sam smiled, listening to the track. He frowned at Beatrice, who looked clueless. Over the top of the movie sound, there was a distinct static.

"From the night of Brad's stage dive. All of a sudden, I'm getting electromagnetic readings up the wazoo. For some reason, it's a legit haunting now." Dean sighed, glaring down at the EMF reader.

Sam shrugged. "Well, who's the ghost, Dean? What's it want?"

"I don't know. I think we should take a look at Brad's death scene."

Later, in one of the trailers, Beatrice was putting a DVD into a large player. "Hey, where'd you get this DVD?" Sam asked her with a raised eyebrow.

She grinned. "They're called dailies. I got it from Cindy. She's kind of got this on-and-off thing going with Drew. He dubbed me an extra copy." She settled back on the sofa beside Sam, cuddling up to him. He draped his arm around her shoulders. Dean fake vomited.

"You two are so cute it's disgusting." He snickered. The DVD played for a while.

"Alright, here's where the guy fell through the roof." Dean muttered.

"Right."

"Alright. Here we go."

"They must have super hearing!" The actor said on the screen. Just then, Brad fell through the ceiling, suspended from a rope.

"Hey, wait. Go back." Beatrice mumbled. Dean rewound the tape. "Right after. Right aft- yeah right. Wait. There." The image froze as Dean paused it. Stood in the corner of the set was a ghostly grey coloured woman, smiling dreamily at the corpse.

"It's like Three Men and a Baby all over again. Selleck, Danson, and Guttenberg. And... I don't know who played the baby."

"What's your point?"

"There's a scene in the movie where people say that the camera caught a ghost on film. Apparently, in the background of one of the scenes, there was this boy that nobody remembers from set. Spirit photography." Beatrice eyed the woman suspiciously.

"I'm seen her before.."

Later on, Beatrice approached the two brothers with a printed out article. "Here, check this out."

"Yeah, go for Ozzy. No, I don't have a 20 on Tara, I think she's 10-100. Okay, copy that." Dean pressed a button in his headset and turned to Beatrice. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"Elise Drummond, starlet back in the thirties. Had an affair with a studio exec. He uses her up, fires her, leaves her destitute, so Elise hangs herself from Stage 9's rafters, right into a scene they're shooting."

"Just like our man, Brad. So, what, she's got it in for the studio brass?"

"Possibly. I mean, it's a motive. And Brad's death matches hers exactly."

"We're digging tonight, aren't we?" Dean chuckled, leaning back in his chair.

"Which way?" Sam asked, running his flashlight along each headstone in turn.

Dean, who was looking at a large map, was frowning.

"Uh... over here. Hey."

"Yeah?" Dean gestured to a memorial for Humpty Dumpty, snickering.

"This map is totally worth the five bucks! Hey, we've gotta go check out Johnny Ramone's grave when we're done here." Beatrice mused, staring over Dean's shoulder at the map.

"You wanna dig him up, too?" Sam smirked. Beatrice rolled her eyes.

"Bite your tongue, heathen! Oh, that's cool."

"You know, guys, what I don't get is why now? I mean, after seventy five years, Elise Drummond suddenly goes homicidal, you know? Why this movie?" He sighed, pausing in front of another grave. No luck.

"Well, maybe she's mad they're making a scary ghost flick." Dean suggested.

"Come on, is it really that scary?" Beatrice teased him.

"Here we go." After an hour of searching, they had finally found the grave they needed.

"Yep, alright." Sam muttered, taking out a shovel.

"Yahtzee."

They started to dig.

"Run-in with a giant fan. Same thing happened to an electrician back in '66, a guy named Billy Beard." Beatrice muttered, watching the man get carried away on a stretcher. She sighed.

"What the hell, dude?" Dean was in disbelief.

"I don't know. Doesn't seem like Elise this time, either. It's not her M.O." Sam mused.

"No, we already torched her. So, what, are we dealing with another ghost?"

"Maybe."

"Yeah, but these things don't usually tag team."

Beatrice was asleep on Sam's lap when Dean came in, looking irritated. "Hey." He said.

"Hey. So, you find out where the electrician's buried?" Sam asked, gently shaking Beatrice awake. She groaned softly.

"He wasn't. Billy Beard was cremated."

"Great. Now what?"

"No idea. Anymore ghost cameos in the dailies?"

"Not in the first six hours. You know, maybe the spirits are trying to shut down the movie because they think it sucks. Because, I mean, it kind of does." As they watched, Beatrice sat up suddenly, making Sam jump. "Do you always wake up like that?" He muttered.

"Usually," she shrugged, "listen to the invocation. Guys, that's the real deal, a necromantic summoning ritual. What the hell is that doing in a Hollywood movie?" She rewound it and listened again. "Oh, great."

"Guys, we're all shut down. What are you still doing here?" The producer, Marty, stared down the trio. Beatrice flashed him her best, winning smile.

"Yeah, uh... sorry, Sir. We couldn't help ourselves. We just had to tell you that we read the script." Marty smirked at her, leaning on his elbows at his desk.

"And?"

"Yeah, um, it's awesome."

"Awesome." Dean agreed.

"Really awesome!" Sam added for emphasis. Beatrice shot them both a look, as if saying, 'leave it to me.'

"I know, it's pretty rockin', right? I'm glad you guys liked it."

"Yeah, I really liked all the attention to detail."

"Gorgeous, right on, that's my thing. Color me guilty, but that is me. I'm a total detail buff."

"No, I can tell. I mean, the way you worked in all those Enochian summoning rituals and all the authentic language."

His smile faltered. "What, you mean that Latin crap? No, man, that's Walter. Walter Dixon, the original writer. You like that garbage?"

"Wait, "Walter the P.A." Walter?"

"No, he's not a P.A. He's got a clause in his contract that allows him to come on set."

"But he wrote the invocations?" She desperately needed more information from him. In a moment of desperation, she perched on the desk, playing with his tie. She felt Sam's eyes burning into the back of her head, but silently willed him to trust her. Marty's smile returned.

"He wrote a whack-job screenplay. There's no pace, there's no love interest, it's all wackadoo exposition. I had to cut, like, ninety percent of it to make it readable, the other ten percent to make it good." He played with the collar of her shirt, and with one swift motion, she'd tackled him and had him pinned to the floor.

"Never, and I mean, never touch me again. That's his job." She pointed at Sam and got up, flipping her hair over one shoulder. Sam snickered.

"You go Baby."

Beatrice flicked through the original script, titled 'Lord of the Dead'. "Should've kept Walter's original script. It's actually pretty good." She muttered.

"Yeah. And it reads like a how-to manual of conjuration, like a textbook on how to summon ghosts and get them to do whatever you want." Sam reminded her, shooting her a look.

"Yeah, like kill people." Dean added.

"Yep. So, let's say somewhere down the line, Walter learned some pretty black magic." Sam suggested. Beatrice nodded.

"Yeah. And let's say he's annoyed at these people for wrecking his movie."

"Motive and means."

"It's worth checking out." Martin's shriek rose high above their voices. Beatrice swore loudly. "God dammit!" With the brother's close on her tail and gun in hand, Beatrice raced to the scene of Martin's demise.

He was being dragged slowly towards large fans, where a ghost and Walter were watching eagerly. Beatrice cocked the gun and fired twice. The ghost disappeared and the fan shut off. Beatrice breathed out heavily. "You are one hell of a P.A." Martin said breathlessly.

"Yeah, I know."

"What are you doing?" Walter wailed, clenching his fists at his sides.

"I could ask you the same thing, Walter." Sam said angrily. Walter yelped and scrambled towards the scaffolding. "Raising these spirits from the dead? Making them murder for you? That's playing with fire, Walter."

"You don't understand!"

"You know what? You're right, I don't understand."

"Just... wait, look. You put your heart and soul into something, years of hard work. It's years, and then they take it! And they crap all over it! And then they want you to smile and say, 'Thank you'."

"Walter, listen. It's just a movie. That's it."

"Look... I've got nothing against you, man. You're not part of this. Just please, please, just leave. But Martin's gotta stay."

"Sorry, can't do that. It's not that we like him or anything, it's just a matter of principle."

"Then I'm sorry too." Walter smiled, raising a talisman. Three ghosts appeared and began advancing on the trio. Beatrice swore again.

"Walter. Walter, pl- don't." She begged, looking at him pleadingly. Often, such a tactic would work. He seemed to hesitate, but then decided it wouldn't work on him. "Sam!" She shot the ghost, gritting her teeth. "Come on, come on." She led them back into the set. "Move!" Beatrice realized suddenly with a pang she could no longer see any of the ghosts. "Son of a-" She was cut off as she was thrown to the floor by an invisible force.

A large rip appeared in her shirt and her skin tore. Blood bubbled from the gash and she screamed. The ghost slashed at her again, just underneath the first cut. That one wasn't as deep so she focused her energy on the first, pressing her hands desperately to the wound.

"Bea!" She heard someone cry. Probably Sam.

"I'm… I'm okay." She coughed. "Just kill them for me!"

The ghost cut her for a third time, this time on her chest, and that was when she passed out.

When Beatrice next awoke, she was in the back of the Impala. She could see through the rips in her shirt that her wounds had been bandaged but that didn't stop them hurting. "Sam?" She mumbled, lifting her head.

"It's alright baby, I'm right here." She felt his hands comb through her hair and she realized he was sat beside her. "Hey, how are you doing?"

"I feel like hell. What happened?"

"To cut a long story short the ghosts murdered Walter." He explained softly.

Beatrice nodded thoughtfully. "He was scared." She said, sitting up though she winced as she did. Sam smiled weakly at her.

"I guess. Get some rest, Baby." He said gently and she did, but that night she did not dream.

Beatrice stormed down the street, looking murderous. "Bea, you're kinda scaring me." Dean said quietly as he jogged to catch up.

"Shut up." She snarled.

"Bea?" A voice called a little way ahead of them.

"Sam!" She stubmled forward, and her face lit up. "Sammy, oh god, you're okay." He started running to her, but something over his shoulder caught her eye."Sam, look out!" Before he could really register her warning, a tall black man, not much older than her, had stabbed him in the back and run, leaving him for dead. "NO! Go after him!" She screamed at Bobby and Dean.

"But-"

"GO!" Too shocked to argue, they both ran after him. Beatrice skidded onto her knees in front of Sam, holding him close, trying to keep him conscious. His head lolled on her shoulder and she tensed up, fearing the worst. "Whoa, whoa, Sam. Sam! Hey! Come here. Let me look at you." She placed her hand on Sam's back and it came away red. Tears sprung into her eyes. "Hey, look at me. It's not even that bad. It's not even that bad, alright? Sammy? Sam! Hey, listen to me. We're gonna patch you up, okay? You're gonna be good as new. I'm gonna take care of you. I'm gonna take you care of you. I've got you. That's my job, right? Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass boyfriend? Sam? Sam! Sammy!"

Sam's eyes slid shut, his body slumping onto hers so she almost fell back. "No. No, no, no, no. Oh, God." Tears streamed down her face. She held him tightly as he died.

"Sammy!"


	3. Chapter 3

Season 3

Beatrice sat by Sam, her hand gripping his tightly. "I'm sorry, Sammy." She whispered. Her voice was hoarse, like she hadn't spoken in months. Bobby looked sadly at her.

"Beatrice?"

"What?"

"This wasn't your fault."

"It was."

"Both of you, shut up." Dean muttered.

"You should eat something." Bobby said in response, staring at Dean.

"I said I'm fine."

"Dean… I hate to bring this up, I really do. But don't you think maybe it's time… We bury Sam."

"No."

"We could.. maybe.."

"What? Torch his corpse? Not yet."

"I want you to come with me."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Dean, please."

"Would you cut me some slack?"

"I just don't think you should be alone, that's all. I gotta admit, I could use your help. Something big is going down, end-of-the world big."

"Well, then let it end!" Dean yelled, jumping to his feet. Beatrice flinched. He scared her when he was like this. He didn't seem to notice, though.

"You don't mean that." Bobby said calmly.

"You don't think so? Huh? You don't think I've given enough? You don't think I've paid enough? I'm done with it. All of it. And if you know what's good for you, turn around, and get the hell out of here. Go! I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please, just go. You too, Bea."

"Dean-"

"Jesus, aren't you meant to be a witch? Isn't there something you can _do_? What's the point in having you around if you can't do anything but blow shit up? You're useless!"

She drew in a sharp breath and stood, took one last lingering look at Sam, and headed towards the door. She paused and turned to face him. She knew he didn't mean it but it didn't hurt any less. "Sam belonged to all of us, Dean. I love him just as much as you do, and I intend to bring him back."

"Bea, what are you-" It hit him suddenly and his face fell. "No. Let me do it."

"What? No!"

"Bea, I'm _tired_! I don't want to do this any more. You can live a life with Sam, be happy, have a couple of kids.. It's what you've always wanted. Please."

She felt tears prickle her eyes, but she nodded. "Alright.."

Dean and Beatrice stalked towards the crossroads. As he reached the middle, he buried the box, taking his time. Silence. "Oh come on, show your face!" There was a pleading tone to his voice.

"Easy sugar, you'll wake the neighbors. Dean. Beatrice. It's so, so good to see you," Beatrice spun on her heels to see a beautiful woman wearing a tight black dress. Her piercing red eyes burned into Dean's, "I mean it. Look at you. Gone and got little Sammy killed. All alone in the world. Apart from each other, of course. It's too sweet. Excuse me, you're gonna have to give me a moment. Sometimes you gotta stop and smell the roses."

"I should send you straight back to hell." Dean spat.

"Oh, you should. But you won't. And I know why."

"Oh yeah?"

"You wanna make a deal. Little Sammy back from the dead, and, let me guess, you're offering up your own soul?"

"There are a hundred other demons who'd love to get their hands on it. And it's all yours. And all you gotta do is bring Sam back. And give me ten years. Ten years, and then you come for me."

"You must be joking."

"That's the same deal you give everybody else."

"You're not everybody else. Why would I want to give you anything? Keep your gutter soul. It's too tarnished, anyway."

"Nine years."

"No."

"Eight."

"You keep going, I'll keep saying no."

"Okay, five years. Five years, and my bill comes due. That's my last offer. five years or no deal." Dean tried to sound firm but his voice wavered.

"Then no deal."

"Fine."

"Fine. Make sure you bury Sam before he starts stinking up the joint."

"Wait." He begged as the demon turned to go. Dean was desperate now.

"It's a fire sale, and everything must go."

"What do I have to do?"

"First of all, quit groveling. Needy people are such turnoffs. Look... Look, I shouldn't be doing this. I could get in a lot of trouble. But what can I say? I got a blind spot for you, Dean. You're like a... puppy. You're just too fun to play with. I'll do it." The demon sighed heavily. Beatrice smiled weakly.

"You'll bring him back?"

"I will. And because I'm such a saint, I'll give Dean-o here one year. And one year only. But here's the thing. If you try and welch or weasel your way out, then the deal is off. Sam drops dead. He's back to rotten meat in no time. So... it's a better deal than your Daddy ever got. What do you say?"

Without hesitation, Dean grabbed the demon and kissed her. When he parted from her, she was gone. It was silent, the air thick with tension, but then both Beatrice and Dean came to a realization.

"Sam."

They said together. They scrambled into the Impala, and ten minutes later they arrived back at the shack. Sam was still laid dead on the mattress. Beatrice broke down, collapsing to her knees beside him, clutching his hand tightly. "She lied to us.." She cried.

"Bea?" Dean muttered.

"What?"

"Sing to him."

"Excuse me?"

"Look, it sounds crazy. But when he was sick, you'd always sing to him. Right? Maybe if you sing to him, it'll wake him up." Beatrice stared at him. She knew it was a terrible plan, but why shouldn't she give it a shot? She thought for a minute, before she began to sing through her sobs, an old song by Joy Division he'd once told her he liked.

For a second, nothing happened, but then he stirred slightly and he lifted his head. "Sam?" Beatrice looked apprehensive but then he groaned, proving he was definitely alive. "Sammy!"

"Hey." He smiled.

Beatrice helped him sit and when she did, she embraced him, hard. Dean stood smiling in the corner, clearly pleased to see Sam up and about, but Beatrice knew he wanted them to have this moment. After all, he knew how much he meant to her.

"Okay. Baby, what happened to me?"

"Well, what do you remember?"

"I-I saw you and Bobby and Dean, and...I felt this pain. This sharp pain, like...like, white-hot, you know, and then you started running at me, and you were crying, and...that's about it."

"Yeah, that… That kid, stabbed you in the back. You lost a lot of blood. It was pretty touch and go for a while."

"But you can't patch up a wound that bad."

"No, but Bobby could. Who was that kid, anyway?"

"His name's Jake. Did you get him?"

"No, he disappeared into the woods."

"We got to find him, guys. And I swear I'm gonna tear him apart." He got to his feet, but Beatrice gently guided him back to the mattress.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy there, Van Damme. You just woke up, all right? Let's get you something to eat. Huh? You want something to eat? I'm starving. Come on." Both Dean and Beatrice helped lead Sam to the table.

While she prepared something, Sam explained what happened. "And that's when you guys showed up." Sam finished.

"That's awful. Poor Andy." Beatrice frowned. She'd grown rather fond of him.

"The demon said he only wanted one of us to walk out alive."

"He told you that?" Dean asked.

"Yep. He appeared in a dream."

"He tell you anything else?"

"No. No. That was it. Nothing else. You know, what I don't get, Dean, is if the demon only wanted one of us, then how did Jake and I both get away?"

"Well, I mean, they left you for dead. I'm sure they thought it was over," he grinned as Beatrice brought over a large pizza, "so now that Yellow Eyes has Jake, what's he gonna do with him?"

"I don't know. But whatever it is, we gotta stop him."

"Well, hold on. You need to get your rest. We got time."

"No, we don't." Sam insisted. Beatrice rolled her eyes and sat down, folding her arms.

"Sam, oceans aren't boiling, okay? Frogs aren't raining from the sky. Let's get you your strength back first." She sighed.

"Well did you call the roadhouse? Do they know anything?" Beatrice and Dean exchanged a glance at his question.

"Yeah.."

"Bea, what is it?"

"The roadhouse burned to the ground. Ash is dead. Probably Ellen. A lot of other hunters, too."

"Demons?"

"Yeah, we think so. We think because Ash found something."

"What did he find?"

"Bobby's working on that right now."

"Well, come on then. Bobby's only a few hours away." He stood. Dean scowled, grabbing him by the shoulders.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop, Sam, stop. Damn it. You almost died there. I mean, what would I have.. you just take care of yourself for a little bit, huh? Just for a little bit?"

"I'm sorry. No."

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head. Beatrice, terrified Dean might reveal what he had done, cut in before he could say anything.

"If he really wants to, we will. He'll just have to take it easy." And with that, she walked out.

Dean knocked on Bobby's front door, every now and then stealing a glance at Sam. Dean had been silent the full ride, and was now looking guilty and upset. When the door was pulled open, Bobby's eyes widened in shock. "Hey, Bobby." Sam smiled.

"Hey Bobby." Dean repeated. Beatrice was still silent.

"Sam. It's good to see... you up and around." Bobby said finally.

"Yeah, well... thanks for patching me up."

"Don't mention it."

"Well Sam's better. And we're back in it now, so...what do you know?" Dean smiled.

Well, I found something. But I'm not sure what the hell it means." Bobby said as he led them through the house.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"Demonic omens...like a frickin' tidal wave. Cattle deaths. Lightening storms. They skyrocketed from out of nowhere. Here. All around here, except for one place...Southern Wyoming."

"Wyoming?"

"Yeah. That one area's totally clean - spotless. It's almost as if..."

"What?"

"The demons are surrounding it."

"But you don't know why?"

"No, and by this point my eyes are swimming. Sam, would you take a look at it? Maybe you could catch something I couldn't."

"Yeah, sure."

"Come on, Beatrice, Dean. I got some more books in the truck. Help me lug 'em in."

"Yeah." They followed him out to the junkyard, chewing the inside of her mouth. As soon as they were out of site and earshot of the house, Bobby stared them down, eyes narrowing in anger.

"Which one of you did it?" He look on Dean's face gave it away. "You stupid ass! What did you do? What did you do?! You made a deal...For Sam, didn't you? How long did they give you?" He demanded.

"Bobby-"

"_How long_?"

"One year.."

"Damn it, Dean."

"Which is why we gotta find yellow eyes. That's why I'm gonna kill him myself. I got nothing to lose now, right?"

"I could throttle you!"

"And send me downstairs ahead of schedule?"

"What is it with you? What is it with you Winchesters, huh? You, your dad. You're both just itching to throw yourselves down the pit."

"That's my point. Dad brought me back, Bobby. I'm not even supposed to be here. At least this way, something good could come out of it, you know? I-I-It's like my life could mean something."

"What? And it didn't before?! Have you got that low of an opinion of yourself? Are you that screwed in the head?"

"I couldn't let him die, Bobby. I couldn't. He's my brother."

"How's your brother gonna feel when he knows you're going to hell? How'd you think he felt when your Dad took a trip downstairs?"

"You can't tell him. You can take a shot at me. Whatever you got to do, but please don't tell him." He begged, breaking down in tears. Bobby tackled him in a hug, starting to cry himself. He reached out an arm for Beatrice and she joined in the hug, burying her face in Dean's shoulder.

A sudden noise behind them made them break apart and regain control of themselves. Arming themselves, they crawled to the other side of the car. Beatrice tackled the intruder, but paused. "Ellen? Ellen! Oh, god."

"Bobby, is this really necessary?" Ellen sighed as Bobby pushed a shot glass towards her.

"Just a belt of Holy Water, shouldn't hurt." She lifted the glass to her lips and drank, then glared at him.

"Whiskey now, if you don't mind."

"Ellen, what happened? How'd you get out?" Beatrice said quietly, staring at her hands.

"I wasn't supposed to. I was supposed to be in there with everybody else. But we ran out of pretzels, of all things. It was just dumb luck. Anyway, that's when Ash called. Panic in his voice. He told me to look in the safe. Then the call cut out. By the time I got back, the flames were sky-high. And everybody was dead. I couldn't have been gone more than fifteen minutes."

"Sorry, Ellen." Sam muttered, putting his arms around Beatrice who was close to tears. Over the past year, she'd made a lot of friends at the roadhouse. The thought of them dead crushed her.

"A lot of good people died in there. And I got to live. Lucky me." She scoffed, downing her whiskey.

"Ellen, you mentioned a safe." Bobby said.

"A hidden safe we keep in the basement."

"Demons get what was in it?"

"No." She pulled out a map, covered in black lines and little 'x's'.

"Wyoming. What does that mean?"

Beatrice flicked through a large, leather bound book, her eyes flicking left and right as she read. Everyone was staring at her, waiting for answers, and eventually she had them. " I don't believe it."

"What, you got something?" Sam asked hopefully.

"A lot more than that. Each of these X's," she pointed at the map, "is an abandoned frontier church, all mid 19th century. And all of them built by Samuel Colt."

"Samuel Colt? The demon-killing, gunmaking Samuel Colt?"

"Yep. And there's more. He built private railway lines connecting church to church. It just happens to lay out like this." Using a black marker she connected the lines until a large black star was formed.

"Tell me that's not what I think it is." Dean's voice had a hint of disbelief in it.

"It's a Devil's Trap. A 100-square mile Devil's Trap." Beatrice smirked.

"That's brilliant. Iron lines demons can't cross." Dean laughed delightedly.

"I've never heard of anything that massive."

"No one has," Beatrice agreed.

"And after all these years none of the lines are broken? I mean, it still works?"

"Definitely."

"How do you know?"

"All those omens Bobby found. I mean the demons, they must be circling and they can't get in."

"Yeah.. Well they're trying." Bobby nodded.

"Well? What's inside?!" Dean demanded to know.

"That's what I've been looking for. And, uh, there's nothing except an old cowboy cemetery right in the middle." Beatrice sighed, rubbing her forehead.

"Well what's so important about a cemetery or...what's Colt trying to protect?"

"Well... Unless.."

"Unless what?"

"What if Colt wasn't trying to keep the demons out? What if he was trying to keep something in?"

"Well, that's a comforting thought."

"Yeah, you think?"

"Could they do it, Bobby? Could they get inside?" Beatrice asked, ignoring everyone else's bickering. Bobby sighed and shrugged.

"This thing's so powerful, you'd practically need an A-bomb to destroy it. No way a full-blood demon gets across."

"No. But I know who could." Sam said suddenly, going slightly pale.

Sam pushed open the cemetery gates, one arm around Beatrice. "Howdy, Jake." She spat, glaring at the tall man in uniform.

"Wait.. You were dead. I killed you!" Jake spluttered, pointing at Sam.

"Yeah? Well next time, finish the job."

"I did! I cut clean through your spinal cord, man. You can't be alive. You can't be."

"Okay, just take it real easy there, son." Bobby eased him.

"And if I don't?"

"Wait and see." Beatrice smirked, playing with her gun.

"What, you a tough guy all of a sudden? What are you gonna do, kill me?"

"It's a thought."

"You had your chance. You couldn't. Too busy comforting lover boy, until he died. Or not. Whatever." He shrugged.

"I won't make that mistake twice."

"What are you smiling at, you little son of a bitch?" Dean snarled. Jake smirked at Beatrice.

"Hey Princess, do me a favor. Put that gun to your head," he instructed. She felt all control leave her as she raised the gun to her temple, "see that Ava girl was right. Once you give in to it, there's all sorts of new Jedi mind tricks you can learn." Sam's expression wavered.

"Let her go."

"Shoot him." Beatrice whispered, glancing at Sam. She was paralyzed with fear and whatever demon mojo Jake was casting on her.

"You'll be mopping up her skull before you get a shot off. Everybody, put your guns down. Except you, sweetheart." Four guns clattered to the ground. "Okay. Thank you." He pulled the colt out of his pocket and turned to the large gates.

"You know, there's one thing you really should have planned for." Beatrice whispered. Jake turned to her, eyebrows raised though she could tell her didn't really care,

"And what's that?"

Beatrice slowly lowered the gun, much to Jake's horror. "Witchcraft."

She raised the gun and shot him four times. He fell back, crying out in agony. She stalked over to him, pointing the gun at his head. He let out a sob. "Please… Don't. Please."

"This is for Sam." She dropped the gun and instead raised her hand above his face. He stared at her, dumbfounded, but it didn't last long because his head exploded. Beatrice sniffed, wiping a splash of brain jelly from her cheek.

"Oh, no." Bobby muttered, staring up at the crypt.

"Bobby, what is it?"

"It's hell." Dean snatched the colt from the crypt, scowling. "Take cover, now!" As the doors burst open, they all took cover behind tombstones.

"What the hell just happened?" Beatrice screamed above the noise.

"That's a devil's gate. A damn door to hell." She heard Ellen call, though she seemed miles away. "Come on! We gotta shut that gate!"

"If the demon gave this to Jake...then maybe..." Dean trailed off as he checked the gun for bullets.

"A boy shouldn't play with Daddy's guns." The yellow eyed demon laughed as the colt flew into his own hand. With a flick of his wrist, Dean flew through the air, hitting his head on a tombstone.

"Dean!" Sam cried, rushing to his brother. Yellow eyes laughed, flinging Sam into a tree like he was nothing more than a rag doll. Beatrice let out a low growl, clenching her fists.

"I'll get to you in a minute, champ. But I'm proud of you, knew you had it in you," he smirked.

Behind him, Beatrice focused hard, trying to harness all her energy in one place and when she looked down, she saw her hand engulfed in flames. She raised her hand, but the Demon turned and she was paralyzed suddenly beneath his gaze. He laughed gleefully and turned his attention to Dean, "so, Dean...I got to thank you. You see, demons can't resurrect people unless a deal is made. I know, red tape, it'll make you nuts. But thanks to you, Sammy's back in rotation. Now, I wasn't counting on that, but I'm glad. I liked him better than Jake, anyhow. Tell me, have you ever heard the expression, "If a deal sounds too good to be true, it probably is?"

"You call that deal good?" Dean laughed painfully.

"Well, it's a better shake than John ever got. And you never wondered why? I'm surprised at you. I mean...you saw what your brother just let that crazy bitch to do Jake, right? That was pretty cold, wasn't it? How certain are you that what you brought back, is 100% pure Sam? You of all people should know, that's what's dead, should stay dead. Anyway...thanks a bunch. I knew I kept you alive for some reason. Until now, anyway. I couldn't have done it without your pathetic, self-loathing, self-destructive desire to sacrifice yourselves for your family."

As the demon cocked the gun, none other than John himself appeared behind the demon and tackled him. Beatrice was half convinced she was hallucinating.

The colt flew from Yellow Eye's hand into her own. She stared at it for a second, but she knew what she had to do. She raised the gun with shaking hands and after a moment, she shot the demon in the head. Bobby and Ellen struggled to push the gates closed as John moved closer to Dean.

Beatrice crouched by his side, checking his head wound. John smiled weakly, and both father and son began to cry. He nodded curtly at Sam, before taking a step back and disappearing.

"Well, check that off the to-do list." Dean chuckled, staring down at the demon's body.

"You did it." Sam said to Beatrice, smiling.

"I didn't do it alone."

"Do you think Dad really...do you think he really climbed outta hell?" Sam asked Dean.

"The door was open. If anyone's stubborn enough to do it...it would be him."

"Where do you think he is now?"

"I don't know."

"I kind of can't believe it, Dean. I mean...our whole lives, everything...has been prepping for this, and now I... I kind of don't know what to say."

"I do." Autumn muttered. She stared down at Yellow Eyes. "That was for Mary, for Jess, for John.. For everyone you've ever hurt. I hope you _burn_." She stalked off to the Impala, feeling pleased with herself.

"You know, when Jake saw me...it was like he saw a ghost. I mean, hell, you heard him, Bea. He said he killed me." Sam said as they approached the Impala. She laughed weakly.

"I'm glad he was wrong."

"I don't think he was, Bea. What happened...after I was stabbed?"

"I already told you."

"Not everything."

"Sam, we just killed the demon. Can we celebrate for a minute?"

"Did I die?"

"Oh, come on."

"Did you sell your soul for me, like my Dad did for Dean?"

"Oh, come on! No!"

"Tell me the truth. Bea, tell me the truth." Sam begged.

"Sam.." She looked at him, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"How long did you get?" His voice broke mid sentence and Beatrice felt her heart shatter.

"It wasn't me. It-" She started, but Dean interrupted her.

"One year. I got one year."

"You shouldn't have done that, Dean. How could you do that?"

"Don't get mad at me. Don't you do that. I had to. I had to look out for you. That's my job."

"And what do you think my job is?"

"What?"

"You've saved my life over and over. I mean, you sacrifice everything for me. Don't you think I'd do the same for you? You're my brother, and I love you. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. And I don't care what it takes, I'm gonna get you out of this. Guess I gotta save your ass for a change."

"Yeah.."

"Well...Yellow Eyed Demon might be dead. But a lot more got through that gate." Ellen said as she approached.

"How many, do you think?"

"Hundred. Maybe two hundred. It's an army. He's unleashed an army."

"Hope to hell you kids are ready. 'Cause the war has just begun." Bobby said.

"Well, then." Dean opened the Impala trunk and threw the colt in. "We have work to do."

It was the ringing of the phone that awoke Beatrice. At first she thought she was in some lucid dream state, but then it registered that it was her phone. She fumbled along the seat until she found it and flipped it open. "Hello?" She said groggily.

"Hey Bea." Bobby said on the other end.

"Hey Bobby."

"What're you doing?"

"Oh, same old, same old."

"You were sleeping, weren't you?"

"Guilty." She laughed sleepily.

"So, where's Sam and Dean?"

"Sam's reading some book, and Dean... You don't want to know."

"Well, you guys better pack it up. I think I finally found something."

"Okay, Bobby." She hung up and looked at Sam. "Do you want to get Dean, or shall I?" Sam laughed, looking up from the book.

"Why don't we do it together?"

"Sounds good to me." They got out of the car and approached the door, opening it with ease. "Dean? Dean, you, you conscious? Bobby called, and he thinks that maybe we-" Her eyes widened in horror. "Oh god." Sam grimaced, covering Beatrice's eyes. He gently guided her out. Once outside, the two burst out laughing.

Later on whilst driving, Beatrice leaned forward in her seat to talk to Dean in the front. "Let me see your knife."

"What for?" Dean looked at her oddly.

"So I can gouge my eyes out."

"It was a beautiful, natural act, Bea."

"It's a part of you I never wanted to see, Dean."

"Hey, I appreciate you giving me a little quality time with the Doublemint Twins." He shrugged. Beatrice smiled.

"No problem."

"Really? Well,i got to say, I was expecting a weary sigh or an eye roll, something."

"Not at all. You deserve to have a little fun."

"Well, I'm in violent agreement with you there," Dean chuckled, "what's Bobby got?"

"Not much. Crop failure and a cicada swarm outside of Lincoln, Nebraska. Could be demonic omens." Beatrice sighed.

"Or could just be a bad crop and a bug problem." Dean suggested.

"Yeah, but it's our only lead."

"Any freaky deaths?"

"No, nothing Bobby could find. Not yet, anyway."

"It's weird,man. I mean, the night the devil's gate opened, all these weirdo storm clouds were sighted over how many cities?"

"Seventeen."

"Seventeen. You think it would be 'Apocalypse Now,' but it's been five days and bubkis. What are the demons waiting for?" Dean sighed, turning a sharp corner.

"Beats me."

"It's driving me crazy. I tell you, if it's gonna be war, I wish it would just start already."

"I don't know, man. Be careful what you wish for."

The next morning, the Impala pulled up outside a large farm. "Hear those cicadas?" Beatrice muttered, getting out of the car. In her hand, she clutched a large cheeseburger.

"That can't be a good sign."

"No, it can't." Sam agreed, wrapping an arm around Beatrice's shoulders.

"So,we're eating bacon cheeseburgers for breakfast, are we?" Bobby said from behind them. Dean turned, flashing him a grin.

"Well, I sold my soul. Got a year to live. I ain't sweating the cholesterol."

"So, Bobby, what do you think? We got a biblical plague here or what?" Sam asked, ignoring Dean, and Beatrice who laughed at his joke.

"Well, let's find out. Looks like the swarm's ground zero." Bobby shrugged. Dean pounded on the front door.

"Candygram!" When nobody answered, Beatrice took out her trusty lock pick and forced the door open. As soon as they entered, a disgusting smell filled their noses. It was like rotten meat and fecal matter and... Beatrice didn't even want to think of it.

"That's awful." She muttered, clamping her hands over her mouth and nose.

"That so can't be a good sign." Dean agreed. He pushed open a large door and recoiled.

"Oh my god." Beatrice gagged. Sat upright on the sofa were a family of free, staring at the TV. They were several days dead, a week at most. "Bobby, what the hell happened here?!"

"I don't know." Bobby shrugged, shaking his head.

"Check for sulfur." Dean said to Beatrice. She nodded slowly.

"Yeah." As she searched, she heard a loud 'bang' outside. Shrugging, she grabbed her gun and made her way outside. Before she could turn someone tackled her from behind, forcing her to the ground with their weight on top of her. Beatrice yelped and struggled, kicking out.

"Hey!" She yelled. "Get the Hell off me!"

"Isaac? Tamara?" She heard Bobby say somewhere in the distance. She tried to struggle again but it was hard with her hands pinned above her head.

"Bobby. What the hell are you doing here?" A woman asked, a smirk in her voice.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"Hi, Bobby." The man on top of Beatrice laughed. She coughed dramatically.

"Hell-o, bleeding here!"

Later on, as Sam tended to Beatrice's cut arm, Dean was on the phone. "Jenny! That is a beautiful name. That's my sister's name, actually." Beatrice lost track of his conversation and turned her attention to Tamara and Isaac.

"Honey? Where's the Palo Santo?" Isaac was saying, rummaging in a bag. Tamara rolled her dark brown eyes.

"Well, where'd you leave it?"

"I don't know, dear. That's why I'm asking."

"Palo Santo?" Sam asked, glancing at Tamara. Beatrice looked up.

"It's holy wood, from Peru. It's toxic to demons like holy water. Keeps the bastards nailed down while you're exorcising them." She explained, wincing as Sam poked some rubbing alcohol into her wound. Tamara chuckled, pulling a large stake out of her duffel.

"Thank you, dear."

"You'd lose your head if it wasn't for me."

"So, how long you two been married?" Sam asked.

"Eight years this past june."

"The family that slays together..."

"Right. I'm with you there. So, how'd you get started? Oh,you know... I'm sorry. It's not, that's none of my business."

"It's.. It's alright."

"Well, Jenny, if you look as pretty as you sound, then i'd love to have an appletini. Yeah, call you." Dean hung up, coming into the kitchen. "That was the coroner's tech."

"And?"

"Get this, that whole family, cause of death? Dehydration and starvation. There's no signs of restraint, no violence,no struggle. They just sat down and never got up."

"But there was a fully stocked kitchen just yards away!" Bobby said.

"What is this, a demon attack?" Beatrice tucked a lock of hair behind her shoulder.

"If it is, it's not like anything I ever saw, and I've seen plenty."

"Well, what now? What should we do?"

"Uh, _we're_ not gonna do anything." Isaac laughed.

"What do you mean?"

"You guys seem nice enough, but this ain't 'scooby-doo', and we don't play well with others."

"Well, I think we'd cover a lot more ground if we all worked together."

"No offense,but we're not teaming with the damn fools who let the Devil's Gate get opened in the first place."

"No offense?"

"Isaac. Like you've never made a mistake." Tamara sighed.

"Oh yeah, yeah. Locked my keys in the car, turned my laundry pink. Never brought on the end of the world,though."

"Alright. That's enough." Dean said.

"Guys,this isn't helping. Dean-" Beatrice started but Isaac cut her off.

"Look, Princess, there are couple hundred more demons out there now. We don't know where they are, when they'll strike. There ain't enough hunters in the world to handle something like this. You brought war down on us, on all of us. And don't think I don't know what you are. I'm surprise they haven't put you down, I would have done."

"Okay. that's quite enough testosterone for now." Tamara yelled, pulling him out of the room. Beatrice glared after them. She didn't know how they knew about her being a Witch, but the thought alarmed her. If they knew, who else did?

Beatrice perched on the hood of the Impala, watching Dean flirt shamelessly with a witness. "What happened outside makes you realize how fragile life really is. You got to make every second count." He sighed. Beatrice snickered.

"God, he's so full of crap." She muttered to Sam, who nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, he is." The pair went over, clearing their throats.

"Excuse me a minute, would you?" The witness smiled, turning to go.

"Sure."

"Dean, what are you doing?" Beatrice said, rolling her eyes. A small smile played on her lips but Dean could see how forced it was.

"I'm comforting the bereaved. What are you doing?"

"Workin'. Dead body, possible demon attack, that kind of stuff." As they bickered, Bobby came over wearing a suit, his hair slicked back. Dean chuckled.

"Woah," he whistled, "looking spiffy, Bobby. What were you, a g-man?"

"Attorney for the D.A.'s office. I just spoke to the suspect." Bobby said, shooting Dean a look.

"Yeah? so,what do you think? Is she possessed or what?" Beatrice asked, smiling as Sam's arms wrapped around her waist from behind and his chin rested on the top of her head. She leaned into him, letting him hold her.

"Don't think so. There's none of the usual signs, no blackouts, no loss of control. Totally lucid. Just,she really wanted those shoes. Spilled a glass of holy water on her just to be sure; nothing."

"Maybe she's just some random whack job." Dean suggested.

"If it had been an isolated incident,maybe, but first the family, now this? I believe in a lot of things. Coincidence ain't one of them. Did you guys find anything around here?"

"No sulfur, nothing." Sam shrugged.

"Well, maybe something," Dean nodded to a security camera attached to the wall, "see, I'm working."

About five minutes later, after finally finding the security room, the four were huddled around an old TV viewing the tape. "Anything interesting?" Dean asked, hovering slightly. Beatrice shook her head, wishing suddenly that she had a cigarette.

"I don't know yet. Might just be a guy..." She watched, intrigued, as a red headed man approached the psychotic blonde. "Or it might be our guy."

Later that evening, Bobby, Beatrice and Dan were all sat in Bobby's car outside some bar. "What time is it?" Bobby said quietly, eyes locked on the door. Beatrice glanced at the screen of her cell, blowing air into her cheeks.

"Seven past midnight."

"You sure this is the right place?"

"No. But i spent all day canvassing this stupid town with this guy's stupid mug, and,supposedly, he drinks at this stupid bar." There was a loud pounding on the window and Beatrice cried out in surprise, relaxing when she saw it was Sam. He laughed as he got into the back beside her.

"Not funny." She scowled.

"Yeah. Uh, all right, so, John Doe's name is Walter Rosen. He's from Oak Park, just west of Chicago. Went missing about a week ago." Sam reported, glancing at Dean who looked interested.

"The night the devil's gate opened?"

"Yeah."

"So you think he's possessed?"

"It's a good bet. So, what, he just walks up to someone, touches them, and they go stark raving psycho?"

"Those demons that got out at the gate, they're gonna do all kinds of things we haven't seen." Bobby shrugged. Autumn looked up from her notebook, expression grave.

"You mean the demons we let out?"

"Guys." Dean said quietly. They looked up to see the red head making his way into the bar, smirking to himself as though in conversation with someone. "Alright, showtime." He started towards the door, but Bobby stopped him.

"Wait a minute."

"What?"

"Those demons that got out at the gate, they're gonna do all kinds of things we haven't seen."

"Oh, so he kills someone and we just sit here with our junk in our hands?"

"We're no good dead! And we're not gonna make a move until we know what the score is."

"Hey, Bobby? I don't think that's an option." Beatrice interrupted.

"Why not?" She pointed to another car that had just pulled up. To her dismay, Isaac and Tamara got out, a little recklessly in her opinion.

"Oh, excellent."

"Dammit!" Beatrice got out of the car and shortly followed by the others, made her way to the bar. She pushed the door. Locked. "God _dammit_." She kicked it in frustration, then remembered exactly what she was and she raised her hands. The door caught fire and burned from the middle up until there was nothing left, just a big empty hole.

The scene inside the bar horrified her. Tamara was screaming, restrained by a waitress, while Isaac was laid dead on the floor. His mouth was red where he'd vomited blood. Beatrice made eye contact with the waitress and for a moment, thought her heart might explode from her chest.

"Grace?" She croaked. The waitress smirked.

"Not any more, Sweetheart." Her sister's eyes flashed black.

"No.. No! Not like this!" Beatrice screamed, backing up. "Get out of her. _Get out of my sister_!" Autumn had tears rolling down her cheeks. Sam grabbed her waist from behind and pulled her outside towards the Impala. "NO!" She screamed.

"Bea, come on! We have to go!"

Dean splashed holy water at Grace in a desperate attempt to get her to release a screaming Tamara. The water singed her skin and she windmilled backwards, screeching blindly but she let go of Tamara. Dean grabbed her hand and dragged her to the car.

"Come on,we got to go! He's dead! Get in the car!" He forced her into the backseat. Beatrice broke away from Sam and lunged at Grace screaming profanity.

"Get out of her! You son of a _bitch_!" She screamed, grabbing her hair and pushing her to the ground, slamming her head repeatedly against the concrete.

"Careful Sweetheart, wouldn't want to bruise this fine packaging."

"Let her go!"

"Bea!" Sam yelled, but she barely heard him. He picked her up and carried her out, despite her screams and protests.

"Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go!" Bobby said, tumbling into shotgun. Dean sped off, and then they were gone, heading into the night.

Autumn watched the demon carefully. He was smiling at her, the stare broken by his rare glances to the devil's trap imprisoning him. She was hardly listening to the argument going on in the other room. "...and I say we're going back, now!" That sounded like Tamara.

"Hold on a second-" Sam.

"I left my husband bloody on the floor!"

"I understand that, but we can't go back."

"Fine. Then you stay. But I'm heading back to that bar. And don't tell me you wouldn't go back for her!" Beatrice's ears pricked up as she realized she'd been mentioned. Sam had started to say something, but Beatrice's appearance in the room cut her off.

"I'll go with her."

"It's suicide, Bea!"

"So what? I may as well be dead already. Look, Sam. My sister was in there, and god knows what that bastard did to her. I want to get her back!"

"How you gonna kill 'em? Can't shoot 'em. You can't stab 'em. They're not just gonna wait in line to get exorcised!"

"I don't care!"

"We don't even know how many of them there are!"

"Yeah, we do." Bobby said as he entered, clutching a large, leather bound book. "There's seven. Do you have any idea who we're up against?"

"No, who?" Dean asked, who'd so far been silent.

"The seven deadly sins, live and in the flesh!"

"What's in the box?" There was an awkward silence. "Brad Pitt? 'Se7en'? No?" Bobby threw him the book. "What's this?"

"Binsfeld's classification of demons. In 1589, Binsfeld ID'd the seven sins, not just as human vices but as actual devils."

"The family, they were touched by Sloth. And the shopper..."

"That's Envy's doing. The customer we got in the next room. I couldn't suss it out at first, until Isaac. He was touched with an awful Gluttony."

"I don't give a rat's ass if they're the Three Stooges or the Four Tops! I'm gonna slaughter every last one of them!" Tamara yelled, looking murderous.

"We already did it your way. You burst in there half-cocked and look what happened! These demons haven't been topside in half a millennium! We're talking medieval, dark ages! We've never faced anything close to this! So we are gonna take a breath... And figure out what our next move is!" He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. For your loss."

Beatrice shook her head tiredly and went back into the room where Envy was held and locked the door behind her. "So you know who I am, huh?" He smirked. She rolled her eyes.

"We do. We're not impressed. Why are you here, what are you after?" Silence. "I asked you a question. What do you want?"

Envy chuckled condescendingly. Beatrice splashed him with holy water and he howled and snarled at her, but submitted. "Ya! Ohh! We already have what we want."

"What's that?"

"We're out. We're free. Thanks to you, my kind are everywhere. I am legion, for we are many. So me, I'm just celebrating. Having a little fun."

"Fun?"

"Yeah. Fun. See, some people crochet. Others golf. Me? I like to see people's insides... on their outside."

"I'm going to put you down like a dog." Beatrice snarled. He laughed.

"Please. You really think you're better than me? Which one of you can cast the first stone, huh? What about you, Beatrice? You're practically a walking billboard of envy and lust. And all that wrath. Ooh. tsk,tsk,tsk. It's the reason you became a hunter in the first place, isn't it? It's so much easier to drink in the rage than to face what really happened all those years ago."

Face twisted in anger and a hidden emotion that may have been guilt, Beatrice punched him. Hard.

"Aah! Whew!" He laughed. "My point exactly. And you call us sins. We're not sins, man. We are natural human instinct. And you can repress and deny us all you want, but the truth is, you are just animals. Horny... greedy... hungry...violent animals. And you know what? You'll be slaughtered like animals, too. The others, they're coming for me."

"Maybe. But they're not gonna find you... 'cause you'll be in hell. I'm 'gonna send you packing. Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus. Omnis satanica-" Envy howled in agony, and the deep black smoke billowed from his mouth. A cold wind blew through the house, blowing out the candles, leaving Beatrice in darkness. She sighed, unlocking the door.

"I don't think we're gonna have to worry about hunting them." She said darkly as she re entered the lounge.

"What does that mean?" Sam asked.

"I think maybe this joker's right. They're gonna be hunting us. And they're not gonna quit easy. You guys, why don't you take Tamara and head for the hills? I'll stay back, slow them down, buy you a little time." She suggested, looking pleadingly at Sam. Hoping he'd understand.

"You're insane, Bea. Just forget about it, okay?" He muttered.

"Sam's right." Bobby nodded.

"There's six of them, guys. We're outmanned, we're outgunned. We'll be dead by dawn."

"Maybe, but there's no place to run that they won't find us."

"Look, if we're going down, we're going down together, alright?" Sam's calming voice soothed her a little, but not much. This was her family. Her fight.

"Then let's not make it easy for them." Beatrice smiled. Bobby looked at her.

"Hey, what about the guy?" Her expression turned cold.

"He didn't make it."

Beatrice sat cross legged, a row of candles behind her as she filled a shotgun with rock salt bullets. She glanced at Sam who was sat at the table, filling flasks with holy water. Their eyes locked. "Sam?" She said quietly.

"Mm?"

"I love you."

"I love you too." They continued to stare at one another, until the lights began to flicker. An old radio began to play a simple, scratchy tune. Beatrice stood, cocking the shotgun.

"Showtime." Outside, there were the sounds of heavy footsteps. A male, she decided.

"Tamara! Tamara! Tamara! Tamara! Help me! please! " Isaac. "Tamara! I got away, but I'm hurt bad! I need help!" The voice continued. Tamara's bottom lip wobbled, but her expression didn't change. Her face stayed stony.

"It's not him. It's one of those demons. It's possessing his corpse." Bobby said quietly. There was a pounding on the door and Beatrice shuddered.

"Baby! Why won't you let me in? You left me behind back there. How could you do that? We swore... At that lake in Michigan. Remember? We swore we would never leave each other!" Isaac howled. Tamara let out a sob.

"How did he know that?"

"Steady, Tamara." Bobby eased her.

"You just gonna leave me out here? You just gonna let me die? I guess that's what you do, dear! Like that night those things came to our house... came for our daughter! You just let her die, too."

"You son of a bitch!" Tamara burst through the door, tackling what used to be her husband.

"Tamara, no!" Dean yelled, but it was a little too late for that. The salt line was broken. Tamara raised the Palo Santo, plunging it deep into her husband's chest. Isaac screamed.

"You're not Isaac!" She screamed. As they fought, another six demons burst through the door. Beatrice jerked away from Sam, gun raised. She swore loudly when one of them tackled her and she shot at it. She missed. Still backing away, it cornered her into the room where Envy's corpse was slumped. It smiled a devilish smile.

"S'pose you're wrath?" She said sarcastically, gun raised.

"Got it in one."

"Ah, well aren't I a doll?" Smirking, Beatrice shot at it again. "Exorcizamus te.." She recited the charm until it finally gave up and left the man's body. He slumped to the ground. Spitting at the corpse, she left the room, slinging her gun over her shoulder.

"Bea!" Someone yelled. Dean. She sprinted up to the bathroom where she found him holding Grace under the water. It bubbled around her and Beatrice could hear her screaming.

"Nice thinking." She muttered.

"Thanks."

"She's probably dead, right?" Dean sighed, pulling up Grace's shirt to reveal her lower back. There was a large stab wound. Deep, probably piercing her spine. Beatrice breathed in sharply, nodding. "Right." She shot the demon twice, then began reciting again. That was it. Her only surviving relative, dead. Halfway through, a sob was caught in her throat and she cut off. "Dean.. Please." Understanding perfectly, he began chanting, one arm securely around his best friend.

Autumn knelt before her sister's grave, tears rolling down her cheeks as she raised the liquor bottle. "I'm sorry, Grace. I tried to save you, I really did. I'm just sorry I didn't know you earlier."

She took a very long drink from the bottle and poured the rest over the soil. She pulled a cigarette packet from her bra and lit one, placing it between her lips. She placed another on the grave Sam crouched beside her, wrapping both arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder.

"You gonna' be okay?" He said gently. She thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Yeah. I'll be fine. Eventually."

"See you guys around." Tamara said as she came over, smiling softly at Beatrice.

"Tamara? The world just got a whole lot scarier. Be careful." Beatrice warned her. Her voice shook a little. Tamara nodded slowly.

"You too." She got in her car, and that was it. She was gone.

"Yeah. Listen, I was talking to Tamara, and she mentioned this hoodoo priestess outside of Shreveport that might be able to help us out. You know, with Dean's.. With Dean's demon deal." Sam smiled, watching Dean walk over to them.

"Nah." She shrugged.

"Nah? What does that mean, nah?"

"Sam, no hoodoo spell's gonna break this deal. It's a goose chase."

"We don't know that."

"Yes, we do. Forget it. She can't help. We're not going, and that's that. What about Reno, huh?"

"You know what? I've had it. I've been bending over backwards trying to be nice to you both, and...I don't care anymore."

"That didn't last long."

"Yeah, well, you know what? I've been busting my ass trying to keep him alive, Bea, and you act like you couldn't care less. What, you think he's got some kind of death wish or something?"

"It's not like that-"

"Then what's it like, Bea?"

"Sam-"

"Please. Tell me." One look into his eyes, and she knew she'd have to tell him.

"We trap the crossroads demon, trick it, try to welch our way out of the deal in any way? You die. Okay? You die. Those are the terms. There's no way out of it. If you try to find a way, so help me god, I'm gonna stop you." Sam sighed, tears forming in his eyes.

"How could you both make that deal? Why didn't you stop him, Bea?"

"Cause' I couldn't live with you dead. Couldn't do it."

"So, what, now I live and Dean dies?"

"That's the general idea, yeah."

"Yeah, well, you're a hypocrite, Bea. How did you and Dean feel when I was dead? You were twisted and broken. And now you go and do the same thing. To me. What you both did was selfish."

"Yeah,you're right. We know it was selfish. But I'm okay with that."

"I'm not."

"Tough. After everything he's done for this family, I think he's entitled. Truth is, he's tired, Sam. I don't know, he feels like there's a light at the end of the tunnel."

"It's hellfire."

Beatrice went to speak but Dean interrupted. She jumped, she hadn't even realized he'd been listening to their conversation. "Whatever. You're alive, we feel good, for the first time in a long time. I've got a year to live, Sam. I'd like to make the most of it. So what do you say we kill some evil sons of bitches and we raise a little hell, huh?" Sam scoffed.

"You're unbelievable."

"Very, very true." Smiling, Beatrice stood. "And don't you forget it." She dropped the cigarette and crushed it beneath her stiletto, letting it burn away small sections of the grass around it. "Now, let's go kill some sons of bitches."

"Because Demon, that's why, I mean the second you find out this Ruby chick is a Demon you go for the Holy water, you don't chat!" Beatrice was rudely awoken by Dean yelling, probably at Sam. It was all they did these days. Argue about demons, argue about her, argue about hunting.. It never ended.

"No one was chatting, Dean." Sam yelled back.

"Oh yeah? Then why didn't you send her back to Hell?"

"Because… Because she said she might be able to help us out."

"How?" There was a pause. "No really, Sam, how? How could she possibly help us?"

"She told me she could help you, OK? Help you out of the Crossroad deal." Beatrice sat up suddenly.

"What is wrong with you, huh? She lying, you gotta know that, don't you? She knows what your weakness is, it's me and it's Dean." She snapped. Sam jumped, and silence fell over the car, "what else did she say?" Silence. "Sam."

"Nothing. Nothing, okay! Look I'm not an idiot guys, I'm not talking about trusting her, I'm talking about using her. I mean we're at war, right? And we don't know jack about the enemy; we don't know where they are, we don't know what they're doing. I mean, Hell, we don't know what they want. Now this Ruby girl knows more than we will ever find out on our own. Now yes, it's a risk, I know that, but we need to take it."

"You're OK right, I mean you're feeling OK?"

"Yes I'm fine, Why are you always asking me that?" Sam sighed. A phone started to ring, startling Beatrice. Sam checked his cell. "It's not mine." Dean reached for his.

"Nope. Check the glove compartment, it's Dad's." Dean muttered, eyes glued on the road.

"Dad's?"

"Yes, I keep it charged up in case any of his old contacts call." Sam stuck his hand into the glove compartment, felt around for a while for fishing out a ringing phone. He pressed the green button and held it to his ear.

"Hello? Yes... this is Edgar Cayce.. No, no, no, no, don't- don't call the police, I'll handle this myself. Thanks. You know, can you just uh, can you just lock it back up for me? Great. Uhm, I- I uh, I don't have my- my book in front of me, do you- do you have the address so I can...Sure, OK. Go ahead. Right, thanks a lot." Sam ended the call. "Dad ever tell you he kept a container at a storage place?"

"What?" Beatrice said, who'd otherwise been silent.

"Outside of Buffalo?"

"No way!" Dean grinned.

"Yeah. And someone just broke into it."

Around six hours later, they pulled up outside a large warehouse. Although it had been broken into, it was sealed shut. "Bea?" Sam glanced at her and she grinned. "It's all yours." She raised her hand, expecting the door to explode, but there was nothing.

"It's Witch proof. John clearly thought of everything." She muttered darkly. She tried again, and this time the lock blew away and the door swung open with a creak.

"You know," Dean said as he passed her, "a lock pick may have been more efficient." Ignoring him, Beatrice caught up with Sam and entered the elevator. It didn't look particularly safe, but she'd adjust. Dean laughed suddenly, shaking his head.

"Man..."

"What?" Sam glanced at him.

"Just Dad. You know him and his secrets. Spend all this time with the guy and it's like we barely even know the man."

"Well, we're about to learn something.." The elevator came to a creaky stop and Beatrice shuddered.

"Let's go." She pushed open the door to the container to find a large painted devil's trap above the door. "No demon's allowed."

"Blood. Check this out." Dean held up a tripwire which was attached to a shotgun hidden skillfully in a large, slightly damaged animal skull. Although she had to admit, she'd never liked John, she had to admire him. Always with the paranoia.

"Whoever broke in here got tagged." She smiled. Dean nodded in agreement.

"Dear old Dad. I got two sets of boot treads here, looks like it was a two-man job. And our friend with the buckshot in him looks like he kept walking."

"So what's the deal? Dad would do work here or something?" Sam suggested.

"Living the high life as usual." They ventured further inside. When they did, Sam's eyes lit up and he darted forward.

"No way! That's my Division Championship soccer trophy. I can't believe he kept this."

"Yeah... About the closest you ever came to being a boy. Oh, wow! It's my first sawed-off. I made it myself. 6th Grade." Dean pumped the shotgun, a huge childish grin on his face. Beatrice smiled endearingly at them, then paused.

"Oh my god."

"What?" Sam glanced at her. She picked up a small, dusty ring from the shelf above her head.

"It's.. It's my Grandmother's wedding ring.."

"How did it..?"

"The year I joined Dean and your Dad, the year you left for Stanford, my Grandmother died. She was the only family I had left, that I knew about at least, and she left me this. I lost it the week before we came for you. I thought it was gone.. But he obviously found it." Beatrice smiled, polishing it with the hem of her dress before placing it on her left ring finger.

"It's beautiful. Your Grandmother had excellent taste." Sam commented, inspecting the rose-gold ring. Beatrice nodded.

"Yeah, she did." They continued to search. She ran her flashlight along the floor, frowning.

"God, look at this. He had land mines. Which they didn't take. Or the guns. I guess they knew what they were after, huh?" Dean chuckled. Sam spotted a row of boxes, inscribed with odd symbols.

"Hey guys, check this out. See these symbols? That's binding magic. These are curse boxes."

"Curse boxes? They're supposed to keep the evil mojo in right, kinda like the Pandora deal?" Beatrice asked, looking along the boxes.

"Yeah, yeah, they're built to contain the power of the cursed object."

"Well John's journal did mention a whole bunch of stuff, you know? Dangerous hexed items, fetishes, he never did say where they ended up."

"No, then this must be his toxic waste dump. One box is missing... Great."

"Well, maybe they didn't open it." Beatrice said hopefully but she knew it was unlikely. After all, they were Winchesters. When had things ever worked out for them?

The next morning, they pulled up outside a large apartment building next to another car. Beatrice checked the plates. "Connecticut. Last three digits 880."

"Yeah, that's it." Sam nodded, getting out of the car. Dean chuckled.

"Should've blacked out their plates before they parked in front of the security camera..." They walked up the apartment. It was grotty, and Beatrice wrinkled her nose in disgust. She followed the brothers to the apartment. Although she was all set to break in, the door was open. Inside two men were having a conversation about a poker game. Beatrice rolled her eyes.

Unable to bear the conversation any longer, she darted around the corner, gun raised. "Freeze! Nobody move!" She'd have rather used her powers, but she supposed subtly was key.

"What is this?!" The first man said, leaping to his feet.

"Stop!" She warned him, nodding towards her gun.

"All right, give us the box. And please tell me that you didn't-" Dean said as they came around the corner. Sam groaned, following suit.

"Oh, they did."

"You opened it?" Beatrice shoved the man against the wall, pressing her forearm to his throat. Sam smiled. 'That's my girl.' He thought, aiming his gun at the other man in case he tried anything.

"Are you guys cops?" The guy Beatrice had against the wall asked. She was slightly taken aback by the question and stared at him, a little confused.

"Huh?"

"Are you cops?"

"What was in the box?" Autumn asked, ignoring his question. She followed his gaze to the coffee table where a small scrap of fur lay discarded among playing cards. She frowned. "Oh, was that is, Huh? It was wasn't it? What is that thing?"

The man used her distraction to his advantage and tackled her, forcing her to the floor. He saw on her legs to stop her moving.

"Oh, you're a pretty one. I bet you'll look stunning when you're dead, too." She laughed, though the breath had been knocked from her.

"Baby, you have no idea what you're dealing with." She lifted her hands but Sam lunged at the man. The weight was lifted and she rolled, but her gun was ripped from her gasp. The second man aimed it at her head. "You've got to be kidding me."

The man grinned and she almost expected a witty one liner but he simply pulled the trigger. She closed her eyes, readying for the blow. But nothing came. She opened one eye cautiously, still half expecting to hear a gunshot, but the gun was firing blank after blank. It had jammed. Beatrice sighed in relief, laying back.

Sam grabbed the man, hitting him over the head with the gun. He collapsed to his knees with a gut wrenching, agonised groan.

"That was a lucky break! Is that a rabbit's foot?" Dean asked, helping Beatrice up.

"I think it is." Sam said as he held up the foot.

"Huh."

Dean walked towards the Impala clutching a paper bag. Beatrice, who'd been sat on the hood, flicking through a book, near enough jumped out of her skin when he dropped the bag beside her. He smirked, then paused and his expression wavered. "We need to talk."

"What?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Back there. You were going to use your powers to hurt him."

"He was going to kill me!"

"Jesus, Bea. That isn't the point. You were going to blow his head up! Using it to open doors is one thing, but this? And when are we going to talk about the fact that you can summon fire? Because don't think we don't know about that."

"I'll control them." She said quietly. "I didn't know how bad it was getting. I promise."

"Oh, okay." He looked surprised at her submission, but dropped the subject anyway. He pulled a handful of cards from the bag and thrusted them at Sam who was pouring through John's journal.

"I'm not finding anything on it in Dad's journal," he stopped when he saw the scratch cards, "Dean, come on."

"What? Hey, that was Beatrice's gun he was aiming at your head, and her gun don't jam. Trust me, I know. So that was a lucky break. Not to mention them taking themselves out, also a lucky break. Here, scratch one. C'mon Sam, scratch and win!" Sam rolled his eyes but obediently started scratching one of the cards with a penny he fished from his pocket.

"Dean it's gotta be cursed somehow, otherwise Dad wouldn't have locked it up." He handed the card back to his elder brother, whose eyes widened dramatically. He laughed gleefully.

"1200... You just won $1200. I don't know man doesn't seem that cursed to me!" He handed him another card, still looking over excited. Ten minutes later, he had six cards splayed upon the dashboard. Sam was on the phone to Bobby.

"Now look Bobby, we didn't know. Well Dad never told us about this thing. I mean you knew about his storage place at Black Rock?" As Sam got out of the car, he paused. Beneath a flickering piece of newspaper on the ground was a golden Rolex. Beatrice's eyes widened.

"Awesome!"

"It's a Hell of a luck charm." Sam continued on the phone, "well, so I won't lose it Bobby. Well then how do we break the curse?" He sighed, as he hung up. Beatrice glanced at him.

"Well?"

"Let's just say.. If I lose this thing, I'm dead."

"Oh, excellent." He placed the foot into his jacket pocket as Dean came over to him.

"Dude! We're up fifteen grand!" He squealed. They entered the Biggerson's, and Beatrice heard her stomach grumble. Classy.

"Don't worry, Bobby will find a way to break it. Until then I say we hit Vegas, pull a little Rain Man. You can be Rain Man." Beatrice assured Sam as she saw his worried expression.

"Look, we just lay low until Bobby calls back, OK?" He turned to the member of staff who greeted them. "Table for three, please." After he spoke a loud alarm went off. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"It's exciting, I know."

"You are the one millionth guest of the Biggerson's Restaurant family!" The member of staff yelled happily. Confetti and balloons poured from the ceiling as staff sang and took pictures.

Beatrice burst out laughing, while Sam looked embarrassed and Dean looked delighted. They sat down at a table and ordered food. Sam pulled out his computer, researching various curses. Beatrice was beside him, sipping a black coffee.

"Bobby's right. It's lore goes way back. Pure Hoodoo. You can't just cut one off any rabbit. Has to be in a cemetery, under a full moon, on a Friday the thirteenth." Sam, muttered, eyes glued to the computer screen. Dean nodded.

"I say from now on, we only go to places with Biggerson's." As they conversed, a tall waitress swaggered over.

"Can I freshen you up?" She said seductively to Sam, glancing at his empty coffee mug.

"Yeah, yeah sure. Thanks." The waitress began to pour the coffee but spilled most of it on the table.

"Oh!"

"Oh! Oh I uh-"

"No, no don't worry it's OK, It's OK- I got it, uh..."

"It's no trouble, really."

"Okay."

"Sorry about that."

"It's alright." The waitress winked at him and walked off, swaying her hips as she did. Beatrice scowled, glaring after her. Dean laughed.

"Dude. If you were ever gonna get lucky..." He sighed wistfully. Beatrice scowled and slapped Dean around the back of the head.

"Shut up!" Sam kissed the top of her head, reaching for his coffee. The second his hand touched the mug it toppled over, spilling the coffee all over him. He yelped, jumping to his feet.

"Oh! Oh Geez, uh..." He spun into the waiter, sending him flying and causing a scene. "S.. Sorry!" Beatrice jumped up, grabbing Sam in an attempt to still him. Instead the two fell over, Beatrice on top of him.

"How was that good?" Dean demanded, clearly trying not to laugh. Sam helped Beatrice up and searched his pockets.

Empty. Dean swore loudly.

"Crap!"

The three raced from the restaurant. Sam, however, tripped fell flat on his face. Beatrice snickered. "Wow. You suck." She reached down and helped Sam up.

"Ow.."

"So what, now your luck turns bad?" Dean asked.

"I guess."

"I wonder, how bad?"

Later, they arrived back at the apartment of the two assholes who stole the foot in the first place. Beatrice pushed open the door, letting herself in. Sam and Dean followed. Grossman was sat on the couch, drinking heavily from a tequila bottle. She cleared her throat loudly.

"Oh, man. What do you want?" He sighed, slamming the bottle onto the coffee table.

"Heard about your friend, that's bad luck." Beatrice said sarcastically, taking a seat opposite him on the sofa.

"Go away."

"We know someone hired you to steal the rabbit's foot. A woman."

"Oh yeah? How do you know that?"

"Because she just stole it back from us." Grossman laughed.

"Listen man, this is serio-" Sam started, but tripped on a wire. The CD player behind him came crashing to the ground and he fell behind the couch. Beatrice sighed heavily, closing her eyes.

"Sam, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good!" He pulled himself up, grinning.

"I want you to tell us her name." Beatrice continued, folding her hands upon her lap.

"Screw you."

"It wasn't a freak accident that killed your partner."

"What?"

"It was the rabbit's foot."

"You're crazy."

"You know I'm not. You saw what happened, what it did. All the flukes, all the luck. When you lose the foot that luck goes sour. That's what killed your friend. And my boyfriend here is next. And who knows how many more innocent people after that. Now if you don't help us stop this thing that puts those deaths on your head."

Grossman's expression turned worried as Beatrice spoke. "Now I know people, and I get it. You're a thief, and a scumbag, that's fine. But you're not a killer. Are you?"

"No.." After another half an hour of talking to him, the trio left the apartment block. Beatrice's phone started ringing and she pulled it out of her pocket, yawning.

"Hello?" She stepped over a large blob of pink chewing gum. Sam followed and stepped straight into it.

"Bea, great news. Wasn't easy but I found a heavyweight cleansing ritual that should do the trick." Bobby said on the other line. Beatrice laughed nervously.

"Bobby that's uh, great, 'cept Sam, uh... Sam lost the foot."

"He _what_?"

"Bobby, Bobby, listen this, uh, this hot chick stole it from him. I'm serious. In her mid 20's, and she was sharp you know, good enough at the con to play us. And she only gave the guy she hired a name, probably an alias or something. Uh, Luigi or something? Ah, Lugosi!"

"Lugosi? Lugos- Aw crap, it's probably Bela."

"Bela Lugosi? That's cute."

"Bela Talbot's her real name. Crossed paths with her once or twice."

"Well she knew about the rabbit's foot, is she a Hunter?"

"Pretty friggin' far from a Hunter, but she knows her way around the territory. She's been out of the country. Last I heard, she was in the middle east some place." Bobby sighed. Beatrice laughed dryly.

"Well, I guess she's back."

"Which means seriously bad luck for you."

"Great."

"But if it is Bela.. At least I might know some folks who know how to find her."

"Thanks, Bobby. Again."

"Just look out for your boyfriend, ya idjit." Beatrice chuckled as she hung up, turning back to Sam. He looked incredibly upset while Dean laughed at him.

"What?" She asked.

"I lost my shoe." Sam pouted. Beatrice sighed and turned to go, leaving the brother's to follow.

It was early morning when they checked back into the motel. "All right Bobby, thanks. We owe you, another one." Beatrice hung up her phone, grinning. "All right Bobby's got it on pretty good authority that this Bela chick lives in Queens. So it'll take us about two hours to get there."

"So what are we doing here?" Sam asked curiously. Dean laughed.

"You, my brother, are staying here 'cause I don't want your bad luck getting us killed."

"What am I even supposed to do, Dean?" Sam complained, looking around the room.

"Nothing, nothing. Come here. I don't want you doing anything. I want you to sit right here, and don't move, OK? Don't turn on the light, don't turn off the light. Don't even scratch your nose." Dean said firmly.

He opened the door and walked out, before turning back. "Bea, you coming?"

"Yeah, meet you in the car." Dean nodded again and made his way to the car. Beatrice knelt before Sam. "Sammy, listen to me. I want you to be really, really careful okay? I don't want to risk losing you. I love you." She kissed his forehead and straightened up. Sam smiled.

"I love you too. And I promise to be careful." He waved as she left, closing the door behind her. She got into the passenger's seat beside Dean, smiling to herself.

"You know, I think he's going to be just fine." She said. Dean didn't look convinced, but nodded for her sake anyway.

"Yeah, let's hope so." He woke up the engine and the radio burst into life with AC/DC's 'Shoot to Thrill'. Beatrice laughed.

"Man, I love this song." Dean slammed his foot onto the accelerator.

"It's like old times, you know? Just you, me, the open road and a great album." He mused. Beatrice glanced at him, eyebrows raised, then suddenly remembered something.

"Dean.. This isn't really any of my business, but when you went into the Djinn universe, what did you see?" There was a silence as Dean thought something over, then he sighed.

"Bea.."

"Tell me, please."

"Well, Sam, he was engaged. To Jess. My mom was alive.. And.. And I was married." He spoke hesitantly. Beatrice nodded.

"That doesn't sound too-"

"To you, Bea. I was married to you."

"Dean, I.." She trailed off, realizing there were no words to say. "Oh, Dean." Her hand reached over the gear stick and she grasped his tightly. "I'm sorry. I really am. But I love your brother! I always have, and I think I always will." Dean nodded as he put on a brave face.

"Yeah, Yeah. I know. I just thought, with me only having one year left, I might as well tell you." The rest of the drive was silent as two best friends reviewed their feelings.

They arrived in Queens around an hour and a half later. The apartment block was adorned with various security cameras. Beatrice sighed. "I don't think Bela likes surprises."

"Yeah, I'm with you there." Dean checked his pistol was loaded and led the younger girl into the apartment, eyes darting left and right. Another security camera focused on them and Autumn winked at it, chuckling to herself.

A large alarm system flashed red on the wall and she swore, smashing her elbow against it, disabling it. The screen flashed yellow. 'ERROR.'

Dean pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket and scribbled 'Turn Around' on it, before breaking into the room itself. He stuck it on a shelf and waited for Bela to find it.

The pair aimed their guns at the back of her head in case she tried anything funny. Bela swore, turned and drew her gun. Beatrice smirked. "You left without your tip." The three circled each other, guns pointed at the different enemies.

"You're gonna give it back." Dean threatened her. Bela laughed.

"Sweetie. No, I'm not."

"Yeah. We'll see. Bela, right?"

"That's right, Dean."

"You know the thing's cursed, don't you?" Beatrice interrupted.

"You'd be surprised what some people would pay for something like that."

"Really?"

"There's a lucrative market out there. A lot of money to be made. You Hunters with all those amulets and talismans you use to stop those big bad monsters. Any one of them could put your children's children through college."

"So you know the truth, about what's really going on out there and this is what you decide to do with it? You become a thief?"

"I procure unique items for a select clientele."

"Yeah. A thief."

"No. A _great_ thief."

"Look Bela, my boyfriend, he touched the foot. And when you took it from him, his luck went from-"

"I know how it works."

"So then you know he's gonna die unless we can destroy it."

"Oh! You can have the foot. For one point five million."

"Nice. Yeah, I'll just call my Banker. How'd you even find the damn thing? Stuck in the back of some storage place, middle of nowhere." It was then Beatrice noticed a large wooden Ouija board on a shelf behind Bela.

"I just asked a few of the ghosts of the people that it killed. They were very attuned into it's location." She smirked.

"So you're only out for yourself, huh? It's all about number one?"

"Being a Hunter is so much more noble? A bunch of obsessed, revenge-driven sociopaths trying to save a world that can't be saved?"

"Well, aren't you a glass half full?"

"We're all going to hell, Beatrice. May as well enjoy the ride."

"I actually agree with you there. Anyhoo, this has been charming but uh, look at the time. Oh and this?" She pulled her hand from her pocket to reveal the rabbit's foot. "Looks like you're not the only one with sticky fingers. If it's any consolation I think you're a truly awful person."

She bowed deeply and turned to go, Dean behind her. Bela swore again, firing the gun. She missed, then shot it again. It hit the wall and ricocheted around the room and very nearly hit her.

"Seeya!" Dean laughed, pulling Beatrice from the building. They arrived back at the motel a little while later.

"Shut up! It's God, Creedy. He led us here for one reason. To do his work. This is destiny." Beatrice heard someone say.

"Dean, gun." She muttered. Dean pressed a pistol into her hands and she darted around the corner. Sam was tied up with a gun aimed at his head while another man lingered to the side. She smiled sweetly. "Nope. No destiny, just a rabbit's foot." She cooed to the two men.

"Put the gun down sweetheart, or you're gonna be scraping brain off the wall."

"What? This thing?"

"Yeah. That thing."

"OK. But you see there's something about me that you don't know." She placed the gun down on the table and picked up a pen. "It's my lucky day." She threw the pen and watched gleefully as it jammed into the barrel of the man's gun. "Oh my god! Did you see that shot?!"

The second man lunged at her, but she sidestepped and he careered into the wall. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious. While the other struggled to remove the pen from the gun, Beatrice threw a remote control at his head. He slumped to the floor. She laughed again. "I'm Harley Quinn!"

Sam rolled his eyes, smirking at her. "Yeah, you're Harley Quinn."

The cemetery was cold. Sam knelt before the large pile of embers, sighing to himself. Beatrice was beside him, her head on his shoulder. "All right. Bone ash, cayenne pepper, that should do it." He muttered. Dean held up a hand to stop him.

"One second." He flicked through another handful of scratch cards.

"Dean, you-"

"Hey, back off, Jinx. I'm bringing home the bacon." He put the cards into his jacket pocket which was slung over the gravestone.

"Bea, if you will?"

"All right, say goodbye 'wascally wabbit'." She chuckled as she held the rabbit over the flame. A gun cocked and she paused, looking up. "Bela." Sam and Beatrice straightened up.

"I think you'll find that belongs to me. Or, you know, whatever. Put the foot down, honey." Bela said patronizingly. Beatrice glared at her.

"No. You're not going to shoot anybody. See I happen to be know people. OK, you're a thief, fine, but you're not-" Bela ignored her, shooting Sam. "Son of a-"

"Back off, kitten. Back off. You make one more move and I'll pull the trigger. You've got the luck, Beatrice. You I can't hit. But your boyfriend? Him I can't miss."

"What the Hell is wrong with you?! You don't just go around shooting people like that!"

"Relax. It's a shoulder hit, I can aim. Besides, who here hasn't shot a few people? Put the rabbit's foot on the ground now."

"Alright. Alright! Take it easy." She leaned down to put it on the floor, but instead threw it at Bela. "Think fast." The thief caught the foot and swore loudly.

"Damn!"

"Now, what do you say we destroy that ugly-ass piece of dead thing?" Dean smirked. Bela scowled, throwing the foot into the flames.

"Thanks very much. I'm out one and a half million, and on the bad side of a very powerful, fairly psychotic buyer."

"Wow. I really don't feel bad about that. Sam?" Dean scoffed.

"Nope. Not even a little."

"Bea?"

"Couldn't care less."

"Hmm. Maybe next time I'll hang you out to dry." Bela scowled and turned to go.

"Oh don't go away angry, just go away." Beatrice sighed.

"Have a nice night." Bela said bitterly and got into her car, chuckling to herself. Beatrice glanced at Sam, looking concerned.

"You good?"

"I'll live."

"I guess we're back to normal now, huh? No good luck, no bad luck. Oh! I forgot we're up $46000, I almost forgot about the... scratch tickets." She searched Dean's jacket, but found nothing. Bela's car roared in the distance.

"God _dammit_!"

A young girl of no more than eight watched Dean and Beatrice carefully from the frosted window. "Um, my daughter and I were in our beds. Mike was downstairs decorating the tree. I heard a thump on the roof and then I heard Mike scream, and now I'm talking to the FBI." Her mother told them. Dean frowned.

"And you didn't see any of it?"

"No, he was.. He was just gone." Beatrice looked a little curious and she looked up.

"The doors were locked? There was no forced entry?"

"That's right."

"Does anybody else have a key?"

"Um.. my parents."

"Where do they live?"

"Florida." Her attention was divided as Sam walked out of the house. After he had found out about Dean's dream in the Djinn world he'd been cold towards Beatrice, although it wasn't her fault.

"Thanks for letting me have a look around, Mrs. Walsh. I think we, uh, got just about everything we need. We're all set." Sam said, shooting an unnecessary glare at Beatrice.

She chewed nervously on her bottom lip, fumbling around in her jacket pocket for her cigarettes and lighter. She wouldn't light them until they'd left the property. After all, she did have a little respect. For a hunter at least.

"We'll be in touch." She said politely and turned to go. The second she'd stepped off the porch she'd lit a cigarette and had it between her lips. Beatrice sighed in content.

"The police said my husband might have been kidnapped." The woman called after them. Beatrice turned back around, removing the cigarette from her mouth.

"Could be."

"Then why haven't the kidnappers called? Or.. Or demanded a ransom? It's three days till Christmas. What am I supposed to tell our daughter?"

"We're very sorry." They got into the Impala. Dean shot Autumn a look.

"No smoking in my car!" She rolled her eyes and extinguished the flame with a simple wave of her hand before tossing it out of the window. While she'd promised the brothers to limit her powers to door opening only, she did find some of them really improved her life. Some of them were very convenient. "Find anything?" Dean continued, turning to his brother.

Funnily enough, Sam'd been nice enough to his brother, despite the fact it was Dean who'd had the dream. Beatrice felt as if she was drifting apart from him, and it was killing her.

"Stocking, mistletoe… this." Sam handed Dean a large white tooth, sighing.

"A tooth? Where was this?"

"In the chimney."

"Chimney? No way a man fits up a chimney. It's too narrow."

"No way he fits up in one piece." Beatrice muttered darkly.

"Alright, so, if dad went up the chimney-" Dean continued.

"We need to find out what dragged him up there." Sam's eyes had a playful air to them as Dean kick started the engine.

Later on, Beatrice and Sam were doing research while Dean was out getting groceries. She flicked through the dusty book, before slamming it shut. The silence was killing her. "Dammit Sam! What is your problem?" She yelled.

"What the hell, Bea?" He shouted back, glaring at her.

"Ever since you found out about Dean's imaginary marriage to me you've been a complete ass! I've seen the looks you give me, as if I'm nothing to you. As if you don't love me anymore!" There was a tense pause. "Is that it, Sam?! Because you sure act like it."

"Bea-"

"No, you know what? Screw this. I'll work this one on my own. I'll call you when I got something." With that, she grabbed her things and stormed out. She knew it was a stupid thing to do, but in the midst of her anger, she couldn't care less. She arrived minutes later at the town's library. The computers were old and dusty, but usable.

Beatrice settled down, a look of concentration on her face. "Okay, let's do this.." It took her a while, but eventually she had something. "Anti clause, huh? Let's have you." She shut down the computer and it was then Beatrice realized she had nowhere to go but back to the motel. "God, dammit." Scowling, she arrived back at the motel and booked her own room.

It was small, damp and cold and suddenly she wished she was back with the Winchesters, safe in Sam's loving embrace. No matter how annoyed she was, of course she still loved him. She scowled and settled onto the bed, ready to face whatever tomorrow brought.

Beatrice awoke early the next morning and made her way down to 'Santa's Village'. She'd always loved Christmas, but since becoming a hunter she'd never been able to enjoy it the same. The second she entered the Christmas fair, she was met with the sight she hadn't particularly wanted to see. The brothers. And before she could duck out of sight, they spotted her.

"Hey, Bea!"

Great.

Dean jogged over to her, frowning. "Where did you go, yesterday?"

"Out." She wasn't in the mood for conversation.

"Sam told me that you-" She didn't stay to hear him finish. She stormed off and went to investigate. She noticed a 'Santa' wandering the grounds, obviously on a break, but he hadn't bothered to change so he wouldn't frighten the children. He had a limp and smelt strongly of peppermints and liquorice. She thought back to the article she'd read about the anti Clause. He walked with a limp, and smelt strongly of sweets. She nodded to herself.

It was late at night when Beatrice returned to 'Santa's village'. To her dismay, the Impala was already there. She swore under her breath, a scowl on her face. They'd obviously found the same article, and were having the same thoughts. She snuck around the back of the car to the shack where the fake Santa lived.

Gun at the ready, she brought her elbow to the door and forced it open. He was sprawled on the couch, half drunk and half asleep as a cheesy Christmas sitcom played on the TV. He spotted her reflection in the TV and yelped, jumping to his feet. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

It was at that moment Sam and Dean burst in, pistols raised. Beatrice mentally slapped them. She glarced at them both, and in a moment of desperation, started to sing. Badly.

"S.. Silent Night. Holy.." She urged them to join in, which they did. "..Night. All is well. All is um.. Dry? Round and round the uh.. Table?" She grabbed the brothers and dragged them out while the man was still distracted.

"What the hell were you both thinking?!" She snapped.

"What?!" Sam looked at her in disbelief.

"I had that under control!"

"Bea, you had the poor man under gun threat! I hardly call that control."

"Oh, shut up Sam."

"God, Beatrice! You can't do this alone, when will you realize that? You're twenty years old! You're just a _kid_." That hurt. Tears welled up in her eyes.

"So, that's all I am to you? A kid?! Screw you, Winchester!" She turned to go so he wouldn't see her cry, but he grabbed her shoulder and spun her round. He opened his mouth to speak, then decided against it. He leaned down and kissed her, arms wrapped around her waist. Beatrice was taken aback and very nearly hit him, but changed her mind and instead kissed him back, arms around his neck.

"Bea," he said guiltily as he pulled back, "I love you. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I'm really, really sorry."

"I love you too." She whispered. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, letting his lips linger on her skin, and straightened up. Dean was staring at them.

"You two are really weird."

"So, that's how your son described the attack? 'Santa took daddy up the chimney'?" Beatrice asked the woman carefully, handing her a tissue.

"That's what he says. Yes."

"And, where were you?"

"I was asleep and all of a sudden… I was being dragged out of bed, screaming."

"Did you see the attacker?" Sam asked.

"It was dark, and he hit me. He knocked me out."

"I'm sorry. I know this is hard." Beatrice said gently.

"Yeah… Um, Mrs. Caldwell, where did you get that wreath above the fireplace?" Sam added, a little insensitively.

"Excuse me?" Beatrice and Dean stared at him, waiting for an answer.

"Just curious, you know." After receiving her answer, they retreated back to the Impala. Dean was scowling at him.

"Wreaths, huh? Sure you didn't want to ask her about her shoes? I saw some nice handbags in the foyer." He said crossly.

"We've seen that wreath before, Dean."

"Where?"

"The Walshes'. Yesterday."

"I know. I was just testing you." When they arrived back at the motel, Beatrice went straight to her phone and called Bobby.

"Yeah, all right. Well, keep looking, would you? Thanks, Bobby." She hung up and turned to the brothers. "Well… We're not dealing with the anti-Claus."

"What did Bobby say?" Dean asked.

"Uh, that we're morons. He also said that it was probably meadowsweet in those wreaths."

"Wow! Amazing. What the hell is meadowsweet?"

"It's pretty rare and it's probably the most powerful plant in pagan lore."

"Pagan lore?"

"Yeah. See, they used meadowsweet for human sacrifices. It was kind of like a… Chum for their gods. Gods were drawn to it and they'd stop by and snack on whatever was the nearest human."

"Why would somebody be using that for Christmas wreaths?!"

"It's not as crazy as it sound, Dean. I mean, pretty much every Christmas tradition is pagan."

"Christmas is Jesus' birthday."

"No, Jesus' birthday was probably in the fall. It was actually the winter solstice festival that was co-opted by the church and renamed 'Christmas'. But I mean, the Yule log, the tree, even Santa's red suit, that's all remnants of pagan worship."

"How do you know that? What are you gonna tell me next? Easter bunny's Jewish? So you think we're gonna dealing with a pagan God?"

"Yeah, probably Hold Nickar, God of the winter solstice."

"And all these Martha Stewart wannabes, buying these fancy wreaths…"

"Yeah, it's pretty much like putting a neon sign on your front door saying 'Come kill us'."

"Yeah." She flicked through a book, blowing out air through her lips before coming across something. "Huh… When you sacrifice to Hold Nickar, guess what he gives you in return."

"Lap dances, hopefully." Dean snickered. Autumn rolled her eyes.

"Mild weather." Sam glanced out of the window, frowning.

"Like no snow in the middle of December in the middle of Michigan."

"For instance."

"Do we know how to kill it yet?" Dean asked, following Sam's gaze.

"No, Bobby's working on that right now. We got to figure out where they're selling those wreaths." Beatrice sighed heavily.

"You think they're selling them on purpose? Feeding the victims to this thing?"

"Let's find out." It didn't take them long to get to the Christmas shop. It smelt strongly of pine and mint, and it made Beatrice feel a little sick.

"Can I help you?" The keeper asked, eyeing them cautiously as if they were going to run out with all of his stock.

"Uh, hope so. Uh, we were playing Jenga over at the Walshes' the other night, and, uh… Well, he hasn't shut up since about this Christmas wreath, and," Dean turned to Sam, smiling, "I don't know. You tell him."

Sam glared at him, then smiled sickeningly at the keeper. "Sure. It was yummy."

"I sell a lot of wreaths, guys."

"Right, right, but.. But you see, this one would have been really special. It had, uh, green leaves, um, white buds on it. It might have been made of, uh… Meadowsweet?"

"Well aren't you a fussy one?" Dean laughed delightedly.

"Oh, he is." Beatrice smirked.

"Anyway, I know the one you're talking about. I'm all out."

"Huh. Seems like this meadowsweet stuff's pretty rare and expensive. Why make wreaths out of it?" Beatrice challenged.

"Beats me. I didn't make them."

"Who did?"

"Madge Carrigan, a local lady. She said the wreaths were so special, she gave them to me for free." He explained.

"She didn't charge you?"

"Nope!"

"Did you sell them for free?"

"Hell no. It's Christmas. People pay a butt load for this crap." He snorted. Beatrice chuckled.

"That's the spirit."

The motel was dark when they arrived. Dean flicked the switch, yawning. "How much do you think a meadowsweet wreath would cost?" He asked. Sam shrugged.

"A couple hundred dollars, at least."

"This lady's giving them away for free? What do you think about that?"

"Well, sounds pretty suspicious." The trio lay their jackets down onto the sofa.

"Remember that wreath Dad brought home that one year?" Dean said, a smile on his face. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You mean the one he stole from, like, a liquor store?"

"Yeah, it was a bunch of empty beer cans. That thing was great. I bet if I looked around hard enough, I could probably find one just like it."

"Alright. Dude… What's going on with you?"

"What?"

"I mean, since when are you Bing Crosby all of a sudden? Why do you want Christmas so bad?"

"Why are you so against it? I mean, were your childhood memories that traumatic?"

"No, that has nothing to do with it."

"Then what?"

"I mean, I just… I don't get it. You haven't talked about Christmas in years." Sam shrugged and raised an eyebrow. Dean smiled warmly , glancing at Beatrice who had collapsed back onto her bed, asleep within seconds.

"Well, yeah. This is my last year." He explained. Sam's eyes filled with tears.

"I know. That's why I can't." He said, biting his lip.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I can't just sit around, drinking eggnog, pretending everything's okay, when I know next Christmas my brother is going to be dead. I just can't.."

Beatrice awoke the next morning with Sam's eyes wrapped tightly around. He was awake, and upon seeing she was too he smiled brightly. "Good morning!" He said cheerfully. "I made you coffee, but you looked cold so I came back." He punctuated with a kiss on her cheek. Beatrice smiled warmly.

"Thank you, Sammy." He released her from his grip and she went to the table where a mug of lukewarm black coffee was waiting for her. "Hey, it's Christmas tomorrow." She mused, her eyes lighting up like a little kid's would. Sam nodded, hugging her from behind.

"Yeah, it is." He kissed the top of her head, allowing her to lean into him. "I've been thinking.. The things I said to you, about being a kid, and not being able to handle yourself.. Well, it was wrong. And I shouldn't have been mad at you either. It wasn't your fault."

"Hey, it's okay." She turned around and kissed him. "It's fine. Honestly." He nodded slowly.

"I think Dean's still asleep, so do you want to go to Madge's house alone? Just the two of us?" She nodded.

"I'd like that." She dressed quickly and the two of them made their way to her house on a quiet, suburban street. It had a homey sort of feeling that left Beatrice with an empty feeling. This was all she wanted, the apple pie life, her and Sam and Dean to be _happy_.

"This is where Mrs. Wreath lives, huh? Can't you just feel the evil pagan vibe?" She snickered. Sam laughed and knocked on the door. A plump, smiling woman opened the door.

"Yes?"

"Please tell me you're the Madge Carrigan who makes the meadowsweet wreaths." Beatrice asked, a smile plastered on her face.

"Why, yes I am!"

"Ha! Bingo!" Beatrice turned to Sam, feigning excitement.

"Yeah? Uh, well, we were just admiring your wreaths in Mr. Sylar's place the other day." Sam went on, wrapping an arm around Beatrice's shoulders.

"You were? Well, isn't that meadowsweet just the finest-smelling thing you ever smelled?"

"It is, it sure is. But the problem is, is that all you wreaths had sold out before we got the chance to buy one."

"Oh, fudge." Madge smiled sadly.

"You wouldn't have another one that we could buy from you, would you?"

"Oh, no, I'm afraid those were the only ones I had for this season."

"Aww.. Tell me something, why did you decide to make them out of meadowsweet?" Beatrice asked curiously, one eyebrow raised.

"Why, the smell, of course! I don't think I've ever smelled anything finer." Her husband came down the stairs, smoking a pipe.

"What's going on, Honey?"

"Well, just a nice couple asking about my wreaths, Dear."

"Oh, the wreaths are fine. Fine wreaths."

"Well, thank you anyway. It was lovely to meet you!" Beatrice aid politely. She took Sam's hand and led him back to the Impala. The two sat in the back, thumbing through various records and articles on Sam's laptop.

"I knew it. Something was way off with those two." Sam said triumphantly.

"What did you find?"

"The Carrigans lived in Seattle, last year, where two abductions took place right around Christmas. They moved here in January. All that Christmas crap in their house, that wasn't boughs of holly. It was vervain and mint."

"Pagan stuff?"

"Serious Pagan stuff."

"So what, Ozzie and Harriet are keeping a pagan god hidden underneath their plastic-covered couch?" She asked, seeming slightly unconvinced.

"I don't know. All I know we're gotta check them out. So, what about Bobby? He's sure evergreen stakes will kill this thing, right?" Beatrice cast a glance at the pile of steaks beside her, a smile playing on her lips.

"Yeah, he's sure."

They waited until night fell to enter the house. Beatrice picked the lock and pushed open the front door, Sam close behind her. Each of them held a large evergreen steak. "See? Plastic!"

She pointed to the covers on the sofa. The explored for a little while until they came across a large door with a brass lock sealing it shut. Beatrice concentrated hard, and the lock blew off the door She pushed it open with a triumphant smile but as soon as she did, she gagged.

The smell of candy upstairs had blocked out the smell of rotten meat coming from the basement. Carcasses in bags were hung from rusting hooks all around the room. She poked one and gagged again. She failed to notice the woman creeping up on her and was subsequently surprised when a hand wrapped around her throat and lifted her, choking her.

"Bea!" Sam yelled. Madge pressed Beatrice against the wall, choking her. The sickeningly sweet smile never left her face. Sam rushed at her, steak raised but Mr Carrigan ran at him and slammed his head into the wall, knocking him out.

He slumped to the floor, blood trickling from his nose. "S-Sam!" Beatrice tried to call out, but her voice was strained from lack of air.

"Gosh, I wish you young lovers hadn't come down here." Madge cooed. She tangled her fingers in Beatrice's hair and slammed her head into the wall. The last thing she heard before she fell unconscious was that same, overly-cheerful laugh.

When Beatrice next awoke she was tied to a chair, something pressing hard against her back. She realized that it was probably Sam. She groaned loudly. "Autumn? You okay Baby?" Someone asked, and confirmed it was Sam.

"Yeah, I think so."

"So, I guess we're dealing with Mr. and Mrs. God. Nice to know." He smiled weakly. "You know, if we don't make it through this.. Just remember I love you.."

"Hey, I love you too. But we're gonna live. It's not our time yet." The door in front of her opened and the Carrigans came in, sporting colourful Christmas jumpers.

"Ooh, and here we thought you two lazybones were gonna sleep straight through all the fun stuff." Madge said delightedly, clapping her hands.

"Miss all this? Nah, we're real party goers." Beatrice hissed, gritting her teeth.

"Isn't she a kick in the pants, honey? You're hunters, is what you are." Mr Carrigan smiled as he smoked his pipe, rather absent mindedly.

"And you're pagan gods. So, why don't we just call it even and go our separate ways?"

"What, so you can bring more hunters and kill us? I don't think so."

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you went snacking on humans." Sam yelled.

"Oh, don't get all wet."

"Oh, why, we used to take over a hundred tributes a year and that's a fact. Now what do we take? What, two? Three?" Madge mused, placing napkins on both of their laps.

"The lovebirds here make five."

"Now, that's not so bad is it?"

"Well, you say it like that, I guess you guys are the Cunninghams." Beatrice rolled her eyes.

"You, young miss, better show us a little respect."

"Or what? You'll eat us?"

"Not so fast. There's rituals to be followed first."

"Oh, we're just sticklers for ritual!"

"And you know what kicks of the whole Shebang?"

"Ooh, let me guess? Meadowsweet. But oh shucks, you're all out of wreaths. Guess we'll have to cancel the sacrifice, hm?" Beatrice snapped.

"Oh, don't be such a gloomy gus." Madge hung a wreath around both of their necks. "There. Ohh… Don't they just look darling?"

"Good enough to eat. Alright, step two." Mr Carrigan walked over to Sam, carrying the knife. Beatrice craned her neck, trying to glare at him over her shoulder. From the corner of her eye she could see he held a bowl under Sam's arm, and that was all she knew until Sam started screaming.

"Sam? Sammy!" Beatrice yelped.

"D-Don't!"

"Leave him alone!" She screamed profanity at the gods, clenching her fists and struggling against her ties. She was sure there'd be some kind of magic proof binding in the room because no matter what she did, nothing would work.

"Hear how they talk to us? To Gods? Listen, sweetheart, back in the day, we were worshiped by millions."

"Times have changed!"

"Tell me about it. All of a sudden, this Jesus character is the hot new thing in town. All of a sudden, our altars are being burned down, and we're being hunted down like common monsters."

"But did we say a peep? Oh… no, no, no, we did not," Madge took the knife and from her husband and hovered over Beatrice, "Two millennium. We kept a low profile; we got jobs, a mortgage. What was that word, dear?"

"We assimilated."

"Yeah, we assimilated. Why, we play bridge on Tuesday and Fridays. We're just like everybody else!"

"You're not blending in as smooth as you think, lady."

"This might pinch a bit, dear." She cut Beatrice's forearm and she screamed, more profanity spilling from her lips.

"Oh, my goodness me! Somebody owes a nickel to the swear jar. Oh, do you know what I say when I feel like swearing? Fudge." Madge smiled warmly at her. Beatrice breathed out heavily, sweat dripping from her forehead.

"I'll try to remember that."

"You two have no idea how lucky you are. There was a time when kids came from miles around, just to be sitting where you are." Mr Carrigan mused, approaching Sam with a pair of pliers.

"What.. What are you doing with that?" Beatrice demanded.

"You fudgeing touch me again and I'll fudgeing kill you!" Sam screamed.

"Oh, very good dear!" She sliced Beatrice's other arm, ignoring her screams.

"No! Don't." Sam cried out in a panic and Beatrice writhed in her seat, struggling to get free. She was blinded by rage, her blood near enough boiling under her skin.

"Oh, we got a winner!" Mr Carrigan smiled, holding up one of Sam's nails.

"Oh god.. Sweetheart are you okay?" She cried.

"Yeah. Fine." Sam choked back with a little bitterness.

"What else, dear?"

"Well, let's see. Uh, fingernail, blood. Oh… Sweet Peter on a Popsicle stick! I forgot the tooth!" Beatrice laughed through her pain.

"Merry Christmas Sam."

"Open wide, and say 'ahh'." Madge gripped Beatrice's jaw and held mouth open, sticking the pliers between her teeth. Before anything could happen, the doorbell rang. Beatrice sighed in relief.

"Somebody gonna get that? You should get that."

"Come on." The two gods exchanged a glance left the room, leaving the couple alone. Leaving the pair alone surrounded by weapons would ultimately be their downfall.

Beatrice used her teeth to bite through the ropes and as soon as her hands were free she undid the ropes around her torso. She knelt before Sam, undoing his ropes for him.

"You sure you're okay?" He asked her. Her clothes and upper arms were coated with gore but the flow of blood had stopped. She shrugged.

"I'll live." She said. He followed her into the next room and she lifted a hand, moving a cabinet to barricade the door before Sam could move it. By this point the Carrigans had replied and were rattling the door, shrieking through the wood. "What do we do now? The evergreen stakes are in the basement!"

"Well, we need more evergreen, Bea! I think I just found us some more." He pushed the Christmas tree down and ripped two large branches off. He tossed one to Beatrice. The cabinet fell forward away from the door and the married couple tumbled in.

"You little thing. I loved that tree." Madge snarled, lunging at Sam. Beatrice swore, jumping onto her back and pulling her hair, hard. She howled.

"Get off me!"

"No!" She stabbed the stake between her ribs, pushing further and further until it hit an organ and Madge fell, taking Beatrice with her. Mr Carrigan let out a cry of anguish.

"Madge!" Sam stumbled to his feet and pushed him, stabbing him repeatedly in the chest. Blood spurted from his body like a fountain and he slumped to the ground beside his wife.

"What beautiful poetic justice." Beatrice muttered bitterly. Sam laughed, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him.

"Merry Christmas Sweetheart." He kissed the top of her head and the two made their way out to the Impala.

Christmas night. Beatrice wasn't expecting much, probably only to get drunk then pass out, but she was wrong. She'd left with Dean to get some beers, and when she returned she was pleasantly surprised.

Sam had hung up a cheesy 'Merry Christmas!' banner, and had put a small tree in the corner. It was decorated with Christmas lights and car air fresheners. "Hey, you get the beer?" Sam asked casually. Dean's eyes lit up.

"What's all this?"

"What do you think it is? It's Christmas!"

"What made you change your mind?" Beatrice asked, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Here, uh, try the eggnog. Let me know if it needs some more kick." He smiled sheepishly. Beatrice sipped from the mug he handed her and her face lit up. It was stronger than she'd expected, flavored with a lot of whiskey.

"Damn! That's good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Well, uh, have a seat. Let's do… Christmas stuff, or whatever." Sam sat down on the battered sofa and Beatrice sat beside him, cuddling up to his side. "Alright, first things first." He pulled out two packages wrapped in brown paper.

He handed one to Dean, and the other to Beatrice. Dean tore off the paper to reveal a candy bar and a bottle of oil.

"Fuel for me and fuel for my baby! These are awesome, thanks."

Beatrice opened her package after, and though floored by the ring inside, she was also confused. "It was my Mother's," Sam said softly, "and… Well, this is me officially proposing to you."

She stared at him like he'd gone mad. "P-Proposing?"

"Yeah. So, will you marry me?"

Her face lit up and she could only nod. "Yes! Of course I'll marry you!" She laughed. He slipped the ring onto her finger and kissed her, much to Dean's delight who cheered loudly.

"Look at my babies all grown up." He cooed.

"I love you so much." Sam whispered against her lips.

"I love you too, Sammy."

"Alright, you two. Break it up." Dean laughed. He pulled two presents from under the table and trust one at Sam, the other at Autumn. Sam opened up two porn mags and some shaving cream. He laughed brightly.

"Skin mags, and shaving cream."

"You like?"

"Yeah, I do." He smiled. Beatrice opened heers to reveal a first edition copy of Trainspotting, her favourite book. Her last copy had been lost on a case but she didn't imagine Dean would remember.

"You're always complaining about how you're miss that damn book. So that is yours!"

"Thanks, Dean." She grinned, "now, don't think I forgot about you two!" She retreated to the bed and from under it she retrieved two presents. Sam opened his, an eager expression on his face.

Inside was a framed photograph of the three of them, taken not long after her and Dean brought Sam home from Stanford. "Thank you, Bea." He smiled, kissing her forehead.

Dean opened his and a grin lit up his face. "Aw, man. Thanks, Autumn." It was a large bottle of whisky tied around the neck with a red bow.

"So now you can stop drinking mine!"

"Hey, guys.." Sam started off as if going to say something sad, but then shook his head like he'd changed his mind. "Do you feel like watching the game?"

"Absolutely!" Dean beamed. Beatrice nodded eagerly.

"Definitely."

"Alright." He got up and turned on the TV to a Winter football game. He sat back down, wrapping an arm around Beatrice, her head lolling on his shoulder. Dean chuckled at the two of them, then turned his attention back to the game. Before Beatrice slowly drifted off to sleep, she noticed how it was the first white Christmas she'd ever seen.

_'Heat of the moment..'_

Beatrice grinned, turning up the radio. "Damn! Love this song!" Dean said, nodding his approval. Sam sat up in bed beside her suddenly, making her jump. "Rise and shine, Sammy!" Dean leaned forward, tying his shoes. Sam smiled, pulling Beatrice into a hug.

"Dude, Asia?" He laughed. Beatrice smirked.

"Come on, you love this song and you know it."

"Yeah, and if I ever hear it again I'm gonna kill myself." Still smiling, Beatrice kissed him softly while Dean turned it up.

"What? Sorry, couldn't hear you." Beatricepulled away and followed Dean into the bathroom, all set to brush her teeth. Dean began gargling, loudly. She glared at him.

"Could you not?" He laughed, spitting it into the sink.

"What?" The two went back into the main bedroom where Sam was up and ready.

"Whenever you're ready, Dean." He sighed. Dean picked up Beatrice's discarded bra from the day before and held it out towards Sam.

"This yours?" He smirked. Beatrice scowled, snatching it from him.

It didn't take them long to arrive at the diner. It was nice, the quiet sort of place with a homey feel. The three settled into a random booth. Dean's eyes lit up as he saw a large poster on the wall. "Hey, Tuesday! Pig in a poke."

"You even know what that is?" Beatrice smirked. As she spoke, a plump and cheery looking waitress came over.

"You kids ready?"

"Yes. I'll have the special, side of bacon and a coffee." Dean said brightly.

"Make it two coffees and a short stack." Sam added. The waitress turned to Beatrice.

"What about you sweetheart?"

"Uh.. Just a coffee, black. Thanks."

"You got it!" She stabbed the pen into her notebook and wandered into the kitchens. Sam turned to Beatrice, eyebrows raised.

"You got something on your mouth." He pointed to her lips and she wiped them, looking at him expectantly. "No, hang on." He leaned forward and kissed her. She giggled, but Dean faked gagging.

"Ew! Get a room. Anyway, I'm telling you, guys, this job's small fry. We should be spending our time hunting down Bela."

"Okay, sure, let's get right on that. Where is she again?" Sam sighed, parting from Beatrice.

"Shut up."

"Look, believe me, I want to find her as bad as you do. In the meantime, we have this." He pulled a handful of papers from his inside pocket and thrust them at Dean.

"Alright, so this professor-"

"Dexter Hasselback was passing through town last week when he vanished."

"Last known location?"

"His daughter says he was on his way to visit the Broward County Mystery Spot."

"Where the laws of physics have no meaning." Beatrice scoffed. The waitress returned a minute later with a tray carrying the coffees.

"Four coffees, and some hot sauce for the-" The sauce fell to the floor with a 'crash'. "Whoops. Crap! Sorry, cleanup?" She walked away, still balancing the tray on one hand.

Back out on the main street, the trio walked rather happily down the sidewalk, chatting excitedly. "Sam, joints like this are only tourist traps, right? I mean, you know, balls rolling uphill, furniture nailed to the ceiling, they're only dangerous to your wallet."

Dean was arguing with Sam about the mystery spot.

"Okay, look, I'm just saying, there are spots in the world where holes open up and swallow people. The Bermuda Triangle, uh, the Oregon Vortex-"

"Broward county mystery spot?"

"Well, sometimes these places are legit." Dean bumped into a pretty blonde, who held up a hand in apology.

"Excuse me." She continued to walk.

"The lore's pretty frigging nuts, actually. They say these places the magnetic fields are so strong that they can bend space time, sending victims no one knows where." Beatrice said. "Sounds a little X-files to me."

"All right, look, I'm not saying this is really happening, but if it is, we gotta check it out, see if we can do something."

"All right, all right, we'll go tonight, after they close, get ourselves a nice long look."

That night, they arrived at the Mystery Spot. In the background, music played that Beatrice supposed was meant to be eerie. She stifled a laugh, but followed the two brothers into the main room. Dean had been right. It was a total tourist trap, and a pretty awful one at that.

"Wow. Uncanny." Dean laughed. He turned to Sam, who was messing with the EMF. "Find anything?"

"No."

"You have any idea what you're looking for?" Beatrice asked, inspecting one of the exhibits carefully. Sam shrugged.

"Yeah... No." She chuckled, shining her flashlight around the room. As she did, it settled on a scrawny, rat faced man. She cried out in surprise, then relaxed. He growled, cocking a shotgun.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He snarled. Beatrice lowered her gun carefully.

"Woah, woah. We can explain."

"You robbin' me?"

"Look, nobody's robbing you, calm down."

"Don't move!"

"Just putting the gun down." The owner fired twice. The bullet bypassed Beatrice and hit Dean straight in the stomach. He crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath.

"DEAN!" Sam and Beatrice screamed at the same time and ran to him. Sam dropped to his knees and cradled his brother, letting out a strangled cry. Dean strained for air he couldn't quite reach, grabbing Sam's jacket with one weak, feeble hand. He turned to the owner. "Call 911!"

"I.. I didn't.. I.."

"Hey, hey, oh, no, no, no, not like this.." Beatrice pleaded, clutching his hand.

_'Heat of the Moment..'_

Beatrice grinned, turning up the radio. "Damn! Love this song!" Dean said. Sam sat up suddenly, making Beatrice jump. "Rise and shine, Sammy!" Dean leaned forward, tying his shoes. Sam stared at him, eyes wide.

"Dude, Asia." Dean smirked.

"Dean.."

"Oh, come on, you love this song and you know it." Beatrice laughed, turning up the volume again. She pecked his lips softly. She pulled away and followed Dean into the bathroom, all set to brush her teeth. Dean began gargling, loudly. She glared at him.

"Could you not?" He laughed, spitting it into the sink. As she went back into the bedroom, Sam was still staring at her in disbelief. "You alright?"

"I think.. I.. Man, I had a weird dream."

"Yeah? Clowns or midgets?" Smirking, Beatrice turned towards the door and left for the car, leaving them to follow.

The diner door chimed as Beatrice opened it. "Hey, Tuesday! Pig in a poke." Dean snickered, pointing to the special's poster on the wall.

"It's Tuesday?" Sam asked in surprise.

"Yeah." The waitress came over, smiling cheerfully.

"You kids ready?"

"Yes. I'll have the special, side of bacon and a coffee."

"Just a coffee for me." Beatrice smiled. Sam still looked bewildered.

"Uh.. Nothing for me. Thanks."

"Let me know if you change your mind." The waitress smiled and returned to the kitchens. Sam was still staring at Dean.

"I'm telling you, Sam, this job's small fry. We should be spending our time hunting down Bela." Dean mused. Upon seeing Sam wasn't paying attention, he clicked his fingers. "Hey, you with me?"

"What?"

"You sure you're feeling okay?" Beatrice frowned, gently feeling his forehead.

"You don't remember any of this?"

"Remember what?"

"This, today. Like it's happened before."

"You mean like deja vu?"

"No, forget about deja vu. I'm asking you if it feels like, like we're living yesterday all over again."

"Okay, how is that not-" Beatrice started, but Sam cut her off.

"Don't say it! Don't say deja vu!"

The waitress returned a minute later with a tray carrying the coffees. "Three black coffees, and some hot sauce for the-" The bottle began to wobble on the tray. Sam grabbed it as it fell, his brow knitting into a frown. Doris smiled. "Thanks!" Dean's eyes lit up as he stared at his brother in amazement.

"Nice reflexes."

They left the diner a little while later. A dog barked, then whimpered. "Sam, I'm sorry, but I don't know what the hell you're talking about." Dean sighed, shaking his head.

"Okay, look, yesterday was Tuesday, right? But today is Tuesday too."

"Yeah. No. Good. You're totally balanced."

"So you don't believe me?" Dean chuckled as he collided with a pretty Blonde.

"Excuse me." She said, before rushing off.

"Look, I'm just saying that it's crazy, you know, I mean, even for us crazy. Dingo ate my baby crazy. Hey, maybe it was another of your psychic premonitions." Beatrice mused, glancing up at him. Sam shook his head.

"No, no way, way too vivid. Okay, look, we were at the Mystery Spot, and then-"

"And then what?"

"Then I woke up." Sam paused. "Wait a minute! The Mystery Spot. You think maybe it-"

"Maybe what?"

"We gotta check that place out, man. Look, just, go with me on this, okay?"

"All right, all right, we'll go tonight, after it closes, get ourselves a nice long look." Sam whipped around at Beatrice's words and violently shook his head

"Wait, what? No!"

"Why not?" Dean asked, his eyebrows raised in question.

"Uh. Let's just go now. Right now. Business hours, nice and crowded."

"My God, you're a freak."

"Dean-"

"Okay, whatever. We'll go now." Still chuckling, he stepped out into the road. It seemed the second he stepped from the pavement, a large car crashed into his side, sending him flying halfway across the street. Sam cried out.

"Dean!" He rushed to his side, pulling him into his arms. "Dean.. No, no no.." His face was caked in blood and his eyes were glassy. Behind them, Sam could hear Beatrice screaming for help. "Come on, Dean.. Please.. Dean? Dean!"

'_Heat of the Moment._.'

"Rise and shine, Sammy!" Dean laughed. Beatrice rolled her eyes, smiling as she pulled a dress over her head.

The diner door chimed as Beatrice opened it. "Hey. Tuesday. Pig in a poke." Dean announced as they slid into a booth. Sam growled.

"Would you listen to me, Dean? Because I am flipping out."

"Are you boys ready?" The waitress came over, smiling. Sam glanced at her.

"He'll take the special, side of bacon, coffee, black. She'll have a coffee as well, nothing for me, thanks."

"You got it." She left, looking bewildered. Dean chuckled.

"Sammy, I get all tingly when you take control like that."

"Quit screwing around, Dean."

"Okay, okay, I'm listening. So, so you think that you're in some kind of a what again?"

"Time loop."

"Like Groundhog day?" Beatrice suggested.

"Yes! Exactly like Groundhog day."

"Uh huh." Dean nodded, obviously skeptical. Even Beatrice giggled.

"So you don't believe me."

"It's just a little crazy, I mean even for us crazy, you know, like, uh-"

"Dingo ate my baby crazy?"

"How'd you know I was going to say that?"

"Because you said it before, Dean. That's my whole point."

"Coffee, black, and some hot sauce for the, whoops! Crap." Doris swore as she dropped the hot sauce, but Sam caught it and slammed it on the table without looking. Doris looked impressed. "Thanks!" She left again.

"Woah, nice reflexes." Beatrice grinned.

"No, I knew it was going to happen." He sighed, glancing at her.

"Okay, look, I'm sure there's some sort of an explanation-"

"You're just going to have to go with me on this, Bea, you just have to, you owe me that much."

"Calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down. I can't calm down. I can't. Because-"

"Because what?"

"Because Dean dies today."

"I'm not gonna die. Not today." Dean said, staring at his brother like he'd gone mad.

"Twice now I've watched you die, and I can't. I won't do it again, okay? You're just going to have to believe me. Please."

"Alright. I still think you're nuts, but okay, whatever this is, we'll figure it out."

After breakfast they retreated back into the street. A dog barked as they passed, and Dean collided with a pretty blonde girl. "Excuse me." She mumbled as she hurried on past.

"And you think this cheesy-ass tourist trap has something to do with it?" Dean asked.

"Maybe it's the real deal, you know? The, the magnetic fields bending spacetime or whatever."

"I don't know, it all seems a little too _X-Files_ for me."

"Well I don't know how else to explain it, Dean!"

"Alright, alright, we'll go tonight after they close, get ourselves a nice long look."

"No, we can't!"

"Why not?"

"Because.."

"Because what? I die there?"

"Blown away, actually.."

"Huh. Okay, we no go." Dean laughed and stepped out into the road. Sam grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back to the safety of the pavement, just as a large car sped past. They stared after the car. "Wait.. Did he?"

"Yesterday, yeah.." Sam sighed again.

"And?"

"And what?"

"Did it look cool, like in the movies?"

"You peed yourself, Dean." Dean was silent, then he sighed in an over dramatic manor.

"Of course I peed myself. Man gets hit by a car, you think he has full control over his bladder? Come on!" He looked tentatively as he crossed the street, then snickered and reached the other side without a scratch. "_Totally_ nailed it."

"Guys, I can't tell you how much I appreciate this. We could use all the good ink we can get." The owner smiled widely as the three 'journalists' questioned him.

"How long have you owned the place, Mr. Kopiak?" Beatrice asked.

"My family's been guarding the secrets here since you don't want to know when."

"So you'd know if anything strange happened." Sam interrupted. The owner shrugged.

"Strange? Strange happens here all the time. It's a Mystery Spot."

"What exactly does this mean?"

"Well uh.. It's were the laws of physics have no meaning."

"Okay, like how?" Sam had gone a little red faced but the owner didn't seem to notice and instead of being concerned, he grinned.

"Take the tour."

"The guy who went missing. Dexter Hasselback. He take the tour?" Dean asked, ignoring Sam.

"Uh, uh. Hold on a minute. What kind of article is this?" The owner demanded. Sam rolled his eyes in an animated fashion.

"Just answer the question."

"The police scoured every inch of this place. They couldn't find that man. I never seen him before. We're a family establishment-"

"Listen to me. There is something weird going on here. Now do you know anything about it or not?"

"Okay. Look, guys, um.. Give me a break. I bought the joint at a foreclosure auction last March, all right? Hell, I used to sell bail bonds." Beatrice sighed at Sam, gently guiding him from the room.

"Come on Kojak. Let's get some air." The cold wind nipped at her shoulders as she guided him outside. "I hate to say it, but that place is exactly what I thought. Full of crap." Sam growled.

"Then what is it, Bea, what the hell is happening to us?"

"I don't know. Alright, lemme just, so, every day Dean dies."

"Yeah."

"And that's when you wake up again, right?"

"Yeah."

"So let's just make sure he doesn't die. If he makes it to tomorrow, then maybe the loop stops and we can figure all this out."

"You think?"

"Worth a shot. I say we grab some takeout and head back to the motel, lay low until midnight." Sam nodded as Dean came out and joined them. "Alright, good. Who wants Chinese?"

Dean clapped his hands together with delight and took a step forward, but a cabinet fell from above, right on top of his head. Beatrice stared at the gory remains in horror.

_'Heat of the moment..'_

When Sam awoke he was back in the motel room, Beatrice by his side pulling her shoes on. Sam groaned and laid back down.

Back in the diner, later, the trio were discussing Sam's problem. "I still think you're nuts, but whatever this is, we'll figure it out." Dean said. Sam smiled weakly.

"Thanks."

"So uh, you're stuck in Groundhog day. What's behind it?" Beatrice asked.

"Well, first I thought it was the Mystery Spot. Now I'm not so sure."

"What do we do?"

"Try to keep Dean breathing, try to make it to tomorrow. That's the only thing I can think of."

"Shouldn't be too hard."

"Yeah, right. I've watched him die a few times now and I can't ever seem to stop it."

"Well, nothing's set in stone. You said I order the same thing every day, right?" Dean said, waving his fork at Sam, who shrugged.

"Yeah. Pig in a poke, side of bacon."

Dean turned to the waitress who was talking through a window into the kitchen with a cook. "S'cuse me sweetheart?" He called. Doris turned around. "Can I get a plate of sausage instead of bacon?"

"Sure thing hon."

"See? Different day already. See, if you and I decide I'm not gonna die, I'm not gonna die." He reassured Sam. Doris came over with the food minutes later.

"Thank you!" Dean beamed, taking a cautious bite of sausage. He paused, then started to choke.

"Dean? Dean!"

_'Heat of the moment..'_

Dean poked his shampooed head around the shower curtain. "You mean we can't even go out for breakfast?" He complained.

"You'll thank me when it's Wednesday!" Sam called back. He laughed and ducked back around into the shower. Beatrice smiled and opened her mouth to speak, but a loud crash in the bathroom cut her off. Sam stared at the door in horror. "Dean?"

_ 'Heat of the moment..'_

"Do these tacos taste funny to you?"

_'Heat of the moment..'_

Dean plugged her shaver into the wall beside Beatrice's hair dryer. Sparks fizzled from the socket and Dean slumped to the ground.

_'Heat of the moment..'_

Thud. Thud. Thud. Beatrice sighed, rubbing her forehead as Sam brought the axe repeatedly into the mystery spot walls. The owner was tied to a chair.

"Everybody's fine, nobody's gonna get hurt, okay? Sammy?" She assured him, turning to Sam. Dean was on the owner's other side, watching Sam silently. "Maybe you should drop the axe and let this guy go, what do you say?" She continued.

"Something's gotta be going on here. I intend to find out what."

"Place is tore up pretty good, Sam. Time to give it a rest."

"No! I'm 'gonna take it down to studs."

"Sammy, that's enough, give me the axe." Dean snapped suddenly and approached Sam, arm outstretched. Sam glared at him.

"Leave it, Dean."

"Give it!" He grabbed the handle of the axe and started pulling, as Sam pulled it the other way.

"No, you give it!"

"Let go!"

"No!"

"Let it go, come on."

"Dean, leave it, please-" There was a scream and blood splashed over the owner and Beatrice. "Dean?"

_'Heat of the moment..'_

The trio slid into a booth. Dean grinned, pointing to the specials board. "Hey, Tuesday. Pig in a poke!" Sam, without expression, slammed a set of keys onto the table.

"What are those?" Beatrice asked, frowning.

"The old man's. Trust me, you don't want him behind the wheel." He sighed. The waitress, Doris, came over.

"You guys ready?"

"Uh, yes, we are. I'll have the special, side of bacon and a coffee." Dean smiled.

"Hey, Doris? What I'd like is for you to log in some more hours at the archery range. You're a terrible shot."

"How'd you know that?"

"Lucky guess." She left again, confused. Beatrice looked at him questioningly.

"Okay, so you think you're caught in some kind of what, again?"

"Time loop."

"Like groundhog day."

"Doesn't matter. There's no way to stop it."

"Jeez, aren't you grumpy."

"Yeah, I am. You wanna know why? Because this is the hundredth Tuesday in a row I've been through, and it never stops. Ever. So yeah, I'm a little grumpy. Hot sauce."

"What?" Doris returned with the coffee and sauce.

"Coffee, black, and some hot sauce for the, whoops! Crap!" Sam caught the sauce without looking and slid it back onto the table. Doris gasped. "Thanks!" She retreated back to the kitchen to check their food.

"Nice reflexes." Dean grinned.

"I knew it was going to happen, Dean. I know everything that's gonna happen."

"You don't know everything."

"Yeah, I do."

"Yeah, right. Nice guess." The scowled as they spoke in unison.

"It wasn't a guess."

"Right, you're a mind reader. Cut it out, Sam. Sam. You think you're being funny but you're being really really childish! Sam Winchester wears makeup. Sam Winchester cries his way through sex. Sam Winchester keeps a ruler by the bed and every morning when he wakes up he-"

"Alright, enough!" Beatrice yelled, throwing her hands up. Sam sighed.

"That's not all. Randy the cashier? He's skimming from the register. Judge Myers? At night he puts on a furry bunny outfit. Over there, that's Cal. He's gonna rob Tony the mechanic on the way home."

"What's your point?" Dean asked.

"My point is I've lived through every possible Tuesday. I've watched Dean die every possible way. I have ripped apart the Mystery Spot, burnt it down, tried everything I know to save his life and I can't. No matter what I do, he dies. And then I wake up. And then it's Tuesday again."

Out on the street, the trio were still discussing Sam's situation. "Dog." The dog barked as they passed.

"There's gotta be some way out of this." Dean said carefully.

"Where's my dang keys?" They stepped around an old man who was searching his pockets.

"Where's my dang keys?" He yelled.

"Excuse me." Dean collided with the pretty blonde girl.

"Excuse me." She held up her hand and moved on.

"She's kinda cute," Dean said, then paused, "Hey. All the times we've walked down this street, I ever do this?" He jogged back to the blonde girl. "S'cuse me, miss!"

"No." Sam smiled, staring after him.

"Hundred Tuesdays and you never bothered to check what she was holding in her hands?" Dean returned, clutching one of the papers she had been holding. "It's the guy who went missing."

"Yeah?"

"That's his daughter back there." Sam grabbed the flyer and ran after the girl, closely followed by Beatrice.

"Ma'am?"

The Labrador beside them whimpered. Dean smiled. "Hey, buddy! Somebody need a friend? Good boy- AHH!"

_'Heat of the moment..'_

Dean sat, happily eating in the diner as Sam researched things on his laptop. Beatrice was beside him, reading a little way ahead of him. "So the police report says Dexter Hasselback is a professor, but that's not all he is." Sam read aloud.

"What is he?"

"I talked to his daughter. Guy's quite the journalist. Columns in magazines, a blog. He writes about tourist attractions. Mystery spots, UFO crash sites, he gets his kicks debunking them. I mean, he's already put four of these places out of business. Here."

"Dexter Hasselback, truth warrior? More like a pompous schmuck, you ask me."

"Yeah, tell me about it. I mean, I've read everything the guy's ever written, and he must have weighed a ton, he was so full of himself."

"When'd you have time to do all this research?"

"Come on." Sam packed up his computer and the three turned to leave.

"I just, it's just funny, you know, I mean, this guy spends his whole life crapping on an."

"Guy has maple syrup for the last hundred Tuesdays, all of a sudden he's having strawberry?"

"It's a free country. Man can't choose his own syrup, huh? What have we become?" Dean snickered, raising an eyebrow.

"Not in this diner. Not today. Nothing in this place ever changes. Ever. Except me."

_'Heat of the moment..'_

Sam sat up, making Beatrice jump. "Rise and shine, Sammy!" Dean beamed, tying his shoes.

Back in the diner, Dean was eating while Sam was eyeing another customer carefully. Beatrice glanced up at him. "So you think you're caught in some kind of what, again?" She asked. He scowled.

"Finish your breakfast." The man stood suddenly and left. Sam stood as well, pulling Beatrice up with him.

"Sammy, you're kinda hurting me." He ignored her. "What's in the bag?"

"Dean, stay here." Sam mumbled, following the man. He led Beatrice threw the streets, before cornering the man and slamming him into a chain link fence, aiming a stake against his chest. Beatrice gasped.

"Sam!"

"I know who you are. Or should I say, what." Sam growled. The man cried out.

"Oh my god, please don't kill me."

"It took me a hell of a long time but I got it."

"What?"

"It's your MO that gave you away. Going after pompous jerks, giving them their just desserts-your kind loves that, don't they?"

"Yeah. Sure, okay." He glanced nervously at the steak. "Just put the stake down.."

"Sam, maybe you should-" Beatrice began, but Sam cut her off.

"No! There's only one creature powerful enough to do what you're doing. Making reality out of nothing, sticking people in time loops-in fact you'd pretty much have to be a god. You'd have to be a Trickster." He smiled nastily.

"Mister, my name is Ed Coleman, my wife's name is Amelia, I got two kids, for crying out loud I sell ad space-"

"Don't lie to me! I know what you are! We've killed one of your kind before!" The man smiled, beginning to morph into the trickster from the year before.

"Actually, bucko, you didn't."

"Why are you doing this?" Sam demanded, jabbing at the trickster with the stake. He smirked.

"You're joking, right? You chuckleheads tried to kill me last time. Why wouldn't I do this?"

"And Hasselback, what about him?"

"That putz? He said he didn't believe in wormholes, so I dropped him in one. Then you guys showed up. I made you the second you hit town."

"So this is fun for you? Killing Dean over and over again?"

"One, yes. It is fun. And two? This is so not about killing Dean. This joke is on you, Sam. Watching your brother die, every day? Forever?"

"You-" Beatrice began, but the trickster cut her off.

"Ah, ah. Language." He turned back to Sam. "How long will it take you to realize? You can't save him. No matter what."

"Oh yeah? I kill you, this all ends now." Sam said.

"Oh-oh, hey, whoa! Okay. Look. I was just playing around. You can't take a joke, fine. You're out of it. Tomorrow, you'll wake up and it'll be Wednesday. I swear."

"You're lying."

"If I am, you know where to find me. Having pancakes at the diner." Sam looked at Beatrice, then back at the trickster.

"No. Easier to just kill you now."

"Sorry, kiddo. Can't have that."

_'Promise me, we'll be back in time..'_

Sam shot up in bed, staring around. Beatrice glanced at him from the bathroom, removing the pink toothbrush from her mouth. "What, you 'gonna sleep all day?" She smiled.

"No Asia?" He said shakily. Dean scowled.

"Yeah, I know. This station sucks."

"It's Wednesday!"

"Yeah, usually comes after Tuesday. Turn that thing off, will you?"

"What, are you kidding me? This isn't the most beautiful song you've ever heard?"

"No. How many Tuesdays did you have?" Beatrice raised an eyebrow, looking at him oddly. He threw on a shirt and ran towards Dean, hugging him tightly. He grinned at Autumn over Dean's shoulder.

"I don't know. I lost count. Hey, wait. Bea, what do you remember?"

"I remember you were pretty whacked out of it yesterday and then I remember running into the Trickster. But no, that's about it."

"All right. Pack your stuff, let's get the hell out of town. Now."

"No breakfast?"

"No breakfast!" Beatrice watched as Dean went out to the car to pack away the things into the trunk. She smiled reassuringly at Sam, but gunshots echoed throughout the room and her expression dropped. "Oh, no," Sam stuttered and ran out of the motel room, leaving Beatrice alone.

_'Promise me, we'll be back in time..'_

"What, you gonna sleep all day?" Beatrice smiled, removing the pink toothbrush from her mouth. Sam stared at her. "I know. No Asia, this station sucks." She shrugged.

"It's Wednesday."

"Yeah, which usually comes after Tuesday. Turn that thing off." Sam threw the covers off and embraced her in his arms, pressing his lips to her shoulder as he held her tightly. Beatrice was taken slightly by surprise.

"Dude, how many Tuesdays did you have?"

"Enough. What do you remember?"

"I remember you were pretty whacked out of it yesterday. I remember getting up with the Trickster. That's about it."

"Let's go."

"No breakfast?" Dean complained, coming out of the bathroom.

"No breakfast!"

"Alright, I'll pack the car." Dean shrugged, turning to go. Sam shook his head.

"Wait, you're not going anywhere alone."

"It's the parking lot, Sam."

"Just.. Just trust me."

"Hey, you don't look so good. Something else happen?" Beatrice asked gently, brushing his hair from his face. He shook his head, placing his hand on top of hers.

"I just had a really weird dream."

"Clowns or midgets?" She grinned. Sam smiled weakly, kissing her forehead.

"I love you Bea."

"I know, baby. I love you too."

"Any sign of it?" Beatrice asked, pushing the bedroom door open. Sam shook his head.

"Nothing. You sure this is Bela's room?" His older brother crossed the room and held up two wigs, shrugging.

"I'd say." After a pause, Beatrice's phone began to ring from her shorts pocket. With a sigh, she held it up. 'Unknown number.' Raising an eyebrow, she flipped the phone open.

"Who is this?"

"Bea, sweetie? Are you there?" Someone asked in a sickly sweet British accent.

"Where are you?"

"Two states away by now."

"Where?"

"Where's our usual quippy banter? I miss it."

"I want it back, Bela. Now."

"Your little pistol, you mean? Sorry, I can't at the moment."

"You understand how many people are gonna die if you do this?"

"What exactly is it that you think I plan to do with it?"

"Take the only weapon we have against an army of demons and sell it to the highest bidder."

"You know nothing about me."

"I know I'm 'gonna stop you."

"Tough words for a girl who can't even find me."

"Oh, I'll find you, sweetheart. You know why? Because I have absolutely nothing better to do than to track you down."

"That's where you're wrong. You're about to be quite occupied. Did you really think I wouldn't take precautions?" As she spoke, a herd of police officers burst into the room, aiming guns at the trio. Beatrice swore, letting the phone slip from her fingers and crash to the floor.

"Hands in the air!"

"Down on your knees!"

"Turn around, now!" One of the officers grabbed Beatrice and pushed her onto the floor, resting their knee in the middle of her back to restrain her. The two other officers wrestled with the brothers.

Upon seeing his murderous expression, she cried out to get his attention. "Do as they say!" She yelled, but her voice was a little strained from being on the ground.

"Sam and Dean Winchester, Beatrice Wells, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney and have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you at government expense."

Beatrice lifted her head a little to see none other than Agent Henriksen.

"Oh, just who I wanted to see today." She spat. The officer on top of her bent her arm back, forcing a cry from her lips.

"Hi, guys. It's been a while." He smirked.

The prison door opened. Beatrice, shackled to the other two was being led through the corridors by her forearm. She had to bite back the urge to make a snippy comment. They arrived in the reception area and a young receptionist looked up at them, terrified. She couldn't have been much older than Beatrice. "Why all the sourpusses?" Dean smirked.

"I'll show you to the cells." Another officer scowled. Beatrice read the girl's nameplate. Nancy.

"We're not the ones you should be scared of, Nancy!" She called over her shoulder, hoping to appeal to her. The trio were shoved into a large cell, and found quickly that the chains were difficult to maneuver around.

"Dean, come on!"

"All right, all right. Sit?"

"Yeah." Awkwardly, they made their way to the bed and collapsed down.

"You know what I'm trying to decide?" Henriksen smiled.

"I don't know. What? Whether Cialis will help you with your little condition?" Beatrice snapped, glaring at him.

"What to have for dinner tonight. Steak or lobster, what the hell, surf and turf. I got a lot to celebrate. I mean, after all, seeing you three in chains…"

"You kinky son of a bitch. We don't swing that way."

"Now, that's funny." He said emotionlessly. Dean laughed cynically.

"You know, I wouldn't bust out the melted butter just yet. Couldn't catch us at the bank, couldn't keep us in that jail."

"You're right. I screwed up. I underestimated you. I didn't count on you being that smart but now I'm ready."

"Yeah, ready to lose us again?"

"Ready like a court order to keep you in a Supermaximum prison in Nevada till trial. Ready like isolation in a soundproof, windowless cell, so that between you and me… probably unconstitutional. How's that for ready?" He turned back to Beatrice.

"Take a good look at Sam; you two will never see each other again. Where's that smug smile, Beatrice? I want to see it."

"You got the wrong guys!" Dean yelled.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot. You fight monsters. Sorry, Dean. Truth is, your daddy brainwashed you with all that devil talk and no doubt touched you in a bad place. That's all, that's reality."

"Why don't you shut your mouth?"

"Well, guess what. Life sucks. Get a helmet. 'Cause everybody's got a sob story. But not everybody becomes a killer. And now I have three less to worry about. It's surf and turf time!" He laughed again. Beatrice, reaching out fro Sam's hand.

He'd been so far silent, but was now cursing everything under the sun under his breath. No, he couldn't lose her, not now. When Henriksen left, another man entered. "Sam and Dean Winchester. Beatrice Wells. I'm Deputy Director Steven Groves. This is a pleasure."

"Well, glad one us feels that way." Dean hissed.

"I've been waiting a long time for you three to come out of the woodwork." He raised his gun and aimed, before shooting Dean in the shoulder. Dean grunted, slumping back against the wall as his blood sprayed Beatrice's face. She cried out, pressing her hands gently to the wound. Steven's eyes flashed black. Sam swore and began reciting in Latin.

"Sorry. Got to cut this short. It's gonna be a long night, fellas." He grinned. Plumes of black smoke poured from his lips and he collapsed, dead.

"What the hell was that?" Henriksen and another man rushed in. Beatrice pulled her hands away from Dean's shoulder. They were stained red.

"Hey, you'll be okay." She promised him, off part of her shirt to dress his wounds. She pushed it against his shoulder, gritting her teeth.

"Put the gun down!"

"Wait, okay, wait-" Sam started but the other man cut him off. He went on regardless. "I didn't shoot him. I didn't shoot anyone."

"He," Dean pointed to Steven, "shot me!"

"Get on your knees!"

"Okay, okay, okay. Don't shoot. Please. Look. Here. Here," Sam threw the gun to the other officers, "we didn't shoot him. Check the body. There's no blood. We did not kill him. Go ahead, check him." His voice swelled with determination.

"There's no bullet wound." The officer mumbled, checking the body.

"He's probably been dead for months."

"What did you do to him?"

"We didn't do anything!" Beatrice yelled.

"Talk or I shoot."

"He was possessed."

"Possessed? Right. Fire up the chopper! We're taking them out of here now."

"Yeah! Do that!"

"Bill? Bill, are you there?" Henrikson said into the walkie talkie. No reply. "They're dead. I think they're all dead."

While Beatrice tended to Dean's arm, still gritting her teeth, the lights flickered then shut out completely. "Alright, don't be such a wuss." She said gently to Dean as he grunted.

"What's the plan? Kill everyone in the station, bust you two out?" Henriksen said as he arrived at the foot of the cell. Dean frowned.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about your psycho friends. I'm talking about the blood bath."

"Okay, I promise you whoever's out there is not here to help us."

"Look, you got to believe us. Everyone here is in terrible danger." Sam said desperately. Henriksen scoffed.

"You think?"

"Why don't you let us out of here so we can save your asses?"

"From what? You gonna say 'demons'? Don't you dare say 'demons'. Let me tell you something. You should be a lot more scared of me." He walked away, still laughing.

"How's the shoulder?" Beatrice asked, pulling the scrap of her shirt away.

"It's awesome. I'll live. You know, if we get out of here alive. So you got a plan?" Beatrice opened her mouth to reply, but stopped. Nancy was staring around the corner at them.

"Hey," she said gently. "uh, please, please. We need your help. It's… It's Nancy. Nancy, right? Nancy, my… My friend's been shot. He's… He's bleeding really bad. You think maybe you could get us a towel? Please? Just one clean towel? Look, look at us. We're not the bad guys. I swear." Nancy sighed and walked away.

"Nice try." Dean scoffed. Beatrice scowled at him but to her surprise Nancy returned, clutching the towel. She sighed in relief.

"Thank you." She stood and walked to the bars, holding out her hands. "It's okay." As Nancy handed her the towel, she grabbed her wrist and slammed her into the bars. Nancy screamed, jerking back. She rushed off back into the reception.

"What the hell was that?" Dean demanded. Beatrice held up a wooden crucifix, smiling.

"We're like sitting ducks in here." Sam mumbled.

"Yeah, I know. Would it kill these cops to bring us a snack?!"

"How many do you figure are out there?"

"I don't know."

"However many they are, they could be possessing anyone. Anyone could just walk right in."

"It's kind of wild, right? I mean it's like they're coming for us. They've never done that before. It's like we got a contract on us. Think it's because we're so awesome? I think it's 'cause we're so awesome." The sheriff entered, looking at them curiously.

"Well, howdy there Sheriff." Dean rolled his eyes. Instead of replying, Melvin unlocked the cell door without emotion.

"Uh.. Sheriff?"

"It's time to go, guys." He mumbled.

"Uh… You know what? We're just comfy right here. But thank you." Beatrice flashed him a fake smile. Henriksen came to the foot of the cell.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"We're not just gonna sit around here and wait to die. We're gonna make a run for it."

"It's safer here."

"There's a SWAT facility in boulder."

"We're not going anywhere."

"The hell we're not!" Henriksen raised his pistol and shot Melvin in the head. Beatrice swore, tackling him before shoving his head into the toilet and she began to perform an exorcism.

Phil and Nancy rounded the corner, wondering what the fuss was about. Sam raised a gun.

"Stay back!" He turned to Beatrice. "Hurry up!" Henriksen lifted his head to reveal black eyes.

"It's too late. I already called them. They're already coming." Beatrice shoved him back into the water and finished the exorcism. Black smoke poured from his mouth and he screamed in agony.

"Is he.. Is he dead?" Nancy asked timidly, glancing at Beatrice who shrugged. There was a tense moment, and then he coughed once and sat up.

"Henriksen! Hey, that you in there?"

"I.. I shot the sheriff." He stuttered. Dean snickered.

"But you didn't shoot the deputy." Everyone ignored him.

"Five minutes ago, I was fine, and then…"

"Let me guess. Some nasty black smoke jammed itself down your throat?"

"You were possessed." Beatrice informed him.

"Possessed like.. Possessed."

"That's what it feels like. Now you know, I owe the biggest 'I told you so' ever."

"Phil. Keys." Henriksen said quietly. Phil tossed him the keys and he undid the chains. Beatrice sighed in relief, rubbing her sore wrists.

"Thanks."

"All right, so how do we survive?"

Later that night, Beatrice and Sam sprayed Devil's traps around the room while Nancy tended to Dean's arm. "Well, that's nice. It's not gonna do much good." Beatrice said, noticing Henriksen and Phil were preparing guns.

"We got an arsenal here."

"You don't poke a bear with BB gun. That's just gonna make them mad."

"What do you need?"

"Salt. Lots, and lots of salt."

"Salt?"

"What, is there an echo in here?"

"There's a road salt in the storeroom." Nancy whispered.

"Perfect. Perfect. We need salt at every window and every door." Henriksen and Phil left to retrieve it. Dean smiled at Nancy.

"How you holdin' up, Nancy?"

"Okay. When I was little, I would come home from the church and start to talk about the devil. My parents would tell me to stop being so literal. I guess I showed them, huh? There, that should hold."

"Thank you."

"Sure."

"Hey, where's my car?" Dean asked as Phil returned.

"Impound lot out the back."

"Okay."

"Wait. You're not going out there!"

"Yeah, I got to get something out of my trunk." He left. The lights flickered again before a bulb blew overhead. Smoke slammed against the window and Beatrice jumped.

"They're coming! Hurry." Dean led them into the main reception area.

"Everybody okay?" Beatrice asked.

"Define 'okay'."

"All right, everybody needs to put these on," Dean handed out the protection amulets, "They'll keep you from being possessed. There you go."

"What about you guys?" The trio pulled down their shirt collars, while Beatrice lifted hers, to reveal their tattoos, Sam and Dean's being on their collarbones, while Beatrice's was on her hip.

"Thank you."

"Smart. How long have you had those?" Henriksen smiled. Beatrice chuckled, shaking her head.

"Not long enough."

"Hey, that's Jenna Rubner." Nancy whispered, pointing to a redheaded woman outside.

"That's not Jenna anymore." Sam muttered.

"That's where all that black demon smoke went?"

"Looks like."

"Shotgun shells full of salt?" Henriksen asked, fiddling with his gun.

"Whatever works."

"Fighting off monsters with condiments. So turns out demons are real."

"FYI, ghosts are real too. So werewolves, vampires, changelings, evil clowns that eat people." Beatrice smirked.

"Okay then."

"If it makes you feel better, Bigfoot's a hoax."

"It doesn't. So, how many demons?"

"Total? No clue. A lot."

"You know what my job is?"

"You mean besides locking up the good guys? I have no idea."

"My job is boring, it's frustrating. You work three years for one break, and then maybe you can save few people. Maybe. That's the payoff. I've been busting my ass for 15 years to nail a handful of guys and all this while, there's something in the corner so big. So yeah… Sign me up for that big, frosty mug of wasting my damn life."

"You didn't know."

"Now I do." There was a pause. "What's out there? Can you guys beat it? Can you win?"

"Honestly, I think the world's gonna end bloody. But it doesn't mean we shouldn't fight. We do have choices. I choose to go down swingin'."

"Plus you got nothing to go home to but your friend and boyfriend."

"Yeah. What about you? You rockin' the white picket fence?"

"Mmm-mm, empty apartment, string of angry ex-wives. I'm right where you are."

"Imagine that." As he spoke, Phil burst in, followed by a pretty blonde woman. Henriksen raised the rifle. "How do we kill her?"

"We don't." Sam said angrily.

"She's a demon!"

"She's here to help us."

"Are you kidding?" Henrikson demanded. The blonde growled.

"Are you gonna let me out?"

"Ruby." Beatrice scratched a little gap the devil's trap to release the demon. "How _wonderful_ to see you."

Every one of Beatrice's words dripped with sarcasm. Ruby rolled her eyes. "And they say chivalry is dead. Does anyone have a breath mint? Some guts splattered in my mouth while I was killing my way in here." She said sarcastically.

"How many out there?" Beatrice asked, ignoring the demon's comment.

"Thirty at least. That's so far."

"Oh, good. Thirty. Thirty hit men all gunning for us. Who sent them?" Dean asked, glaring at Ruby.

"You didn't tell Dean?" She asked Sam. Silence. She smirked. "Ooh, I'm surprised."

"Tell me what?"

"There's a big new up and corner. Real pied piper."

"Who is he?"

"Not he. Her. Her name is Lilith."

"Lilith?"

"And she really, really wants Sam's intestines on a stick. 'Cause she sees him as a competition."

"You knew about this? Well, gee, Sam. Is there anything else I should know?!"

"How about the two of you talk about this later? We'll need the Colt. Where's the colt?"

"It got stolen."

"I'm sorry. I must have blood in my ear. I thought I just heard you say that you were stupid enough to let the Colt get grabbed out of your thick, clumsy, idiotic hands. Fantastic. This is just peachy…"

"Ruby.."

"Shut up. Fine. Since I don't see that there's no other any option. There's one other way I know how to get you out of here alive."

"What's that?"

"I know a spell. It'll vaporize every demon in a one-mile radius. Myself included. So, you let the Colt out of your sight and now I have to die. So next time, be more careful. How's that for a dying wish?" She smiled bitterly.

"Okay, what do we need to do?"

"Aww… You can't do anything. This spell is very specific. It calls for a person of virtue."

"I got virtue."

"Nice try. You're not a virgin."

"Nobody's a virgin!" Ruby glanced at Dean, then back at Nancy who looked down. "No. No way! You're kidding me. You're-"

"What?! It's a choice, okay!"

"So, you've never.. _What_?"

"Shut up Dean." Beatrice snapped and turned to Ruby. "So, this spell. What can she do?"

"She can hold still while I cut her heart out of her chest."

Nancy's eyes widened in horror. "What?!"

"What? Are you crazy?!" Dean demanded.

"I'm offering a solution." Ruby scowled.

"You're offering to kill Nancy!"

"And what do you think's gonna happen to this girl when the demons get in?"

"We're 'gonna protect her! That's what!"

"Excuse me-" Nancy tried to cut in.

"Very noble."

"Excuse me-"

"You're all gonna die. Look. This is the only way."

"Yeah, yeah. There's no way that you're gonna-"

"Would everybody please shut up?! All the people out there… will it save them?" Nancy yelled.

"It'll blow the demons out of their bodies. So if their bodies are okay… Yeah." There was a pause as she thought it through, then she nodded.

"I'll do it."

"Hell no!" Dean yelled.

"We do not sacrifice people. We do that, we're no better than them." Henriksen growled. Ruby sighed over dramatically.

"We have no choice."

"Yeah, well, your choice is not a choice."

"Sam, you know I'm right." Everyone stared at Sam, who was silent.

"Sam? What the hell is going on?! Tell her!"

"It's my decision." Nancy snapped.

"Damn straight, cherry pie." Ruby snickered.

"Stop! Stop! Nobody kill any virgins. Sam, I need to talk to you." Dean led Sam into the corridor. Beatrice pressed her ear to the door to listen in.

"Please tell me you're not actually considering this. We're talking about holding down that girl and cutting out her heart."

"And we're also talking about 30 people out there, Dean. Innocent people who are all gonna die, along with everyone in here."

"It doesn't mean that we throw away the rule book and stop acting like humans. I'm not gonna let that demon kill some nice, sweet, innocent girl, who hasn't even been laid. For god's sake, Sam! What if it was Beatrice? You love her! I mean, look, if that's how you win wars, then I don't want to win."

"Then what? What do we do, Dean?"

"I got a plan. I'm not saying it's a good one. I'm not even saying that it'll work. But it sure as hell beats killing Nancy."

"Okay. So what's the plan?"

"Open the doors, let them all in and we fight." Knowing the conversation was coming to an end, Beatrice stumbled back from the door, hands slapped to her mouth. Her boyfriend, the man she loved, was willing to let an innocent girl die. How could that possibly be the man she promised her life to?

The boys returned a moment later and wordlessly began preparing for the fight, joined by Henrikson and Phil. Beatrice came up behind Sam, placing a gentle hand on his bicep. "Sammy?"

"Mhm?"

"I love you." He turned around and smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Come on, let's do this."

"Together?"

"Always." He took her hand and they ran, shooting in odd directions, hoping whatever they hit was a demon. Without warning, the redheaded demon from before cornered them, smirking. The guns flew out of their hands and into the opposite wall where they smashed. "HENRIKSEN, NOW!" Beatrice cried. Over the loudspeaker, the exorcising chant began to play on a loop.

"I better call in. Hell of a story I won't be telling." Henriksen muttered.

"So what are you gonna tell them?" Sam helped Beatrice to her feet and the three went to find the others.

"The least ridiculous lie I can come up with in the next five minutes."

"Good luck with that. Not to pressure you or anything, but what are you planning to do about us?"

"I'm gonna kill you. Sam and Dean Winchester and Beatrice Wells were in the chopper when it caught on fire. Nothing left. Can't even identify them with dental records. Rest in peace, guys. Now, get out of here!"

So, the deceased left, stupid grins on their faces.

Back at the motel, the trio were preparing to leave for the next state, while Ruby was preparing to just… Leave. "Turn on the news." Ruby said suddenly. Beatrice switched on the old TV with a clunk.

"The community is still reeling from the tragedy that happened just a few hours ago. Authorities believe a gas main ruptured, causing the massive explosion that ripped apart the police station and claimed the lives of everyone inside. Among the deceased, at least six police officers and staff, including sheriff Melvin Dodd, deputy Phil Amici, and secretary Nancy Fitzgerald as well as three FBI agents, identified as Steven Groves, Calvin Reidy, and Victor Henriksen. Three fugitives in custody were also killed. We'll continue to follow the story here at the scene, but for now, back to you, Jim." Ruby turned off the TV and looked at them all with a glare on her face.

"Must have happened right after we left." Beatrice muttered.

"Considering the size of the blast, smart money's on Lilith."

"What's in these?" Dean asked, glancing at the hexbag the demon had thrown at him.

"Something that'll protect you. Throw Lilith off your trail… for the time being, at least."

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me. Lilith killed everyone. She slaughtered your precious little officers, and the pretty little secretary. So after your big speech about humanity and war, turns out your plan was the one with the body count. Do you know how to run a battle? You strike fast and you don't leave any survivors. So no one can go running to tell the boss. So next time… We go with my plan."

She left, leaving them alone with their own guilty thoughts. The only sound that could be heard were Beatrice's gentle sobs.

It didn't take the trio long to arrive at the Morton house. It was a dark, cold Winter's night and Beatrice really wasn't in the mood for a case. The Impala pulled up outside the railings and Beatrice got out, running a hand through her hair to push it back from her face.

"Do you hear voices?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, I do. Bea, Sam, go investigate. I'll have a look wrong." D

"Sam, you okay?" Beatrice said gently.

"I've been.. Better."

"Talk to me."

"It's just.. Bea, Dean's going to die. I'm never going to see him again, and I don't know if I can deal with it.." She wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her forehead against his chest.

"Sammy, you're right. Dean is going to die, but I swear, you'll be alright. The two of us, we look out for each other, we always do. And even after Dean's gone, we'll still have eachother, no matter what."

"I know that, I just-" He paused. "I think I found the voices." He led her around the corner where a couple of dumb teenagers were filming something. With a sigh, Beatrice pulled out her fake badge.

"Freeze! police officers! Don't move!" She yelled.

"All right. All right. All right. Take it easy, take it easy." Sam eased them.

"Come on. Let's see some ID."

"What.. Are we under arrest?!" One of the kids demanded.

"We are unarmed!"

"Oh god.. Oh god!"

"Want to explain that weirdo outfit, Mr., Uh, Corbett?"

"I know you!" One of them said suddenly.

"Yeah, sure you do. Give me some identification."

"Yeah, ho- Whoa, hold on a second. I know the both of you guys. Yeah. Yeah, huh."

"Holy crap." Beatrice muttered, staring at them in disbelief. Sam glanced at her.

"What?"

"Uh, West Texas... The... The Tulpa we had to take out. Those two goofballs that almost got us killed... The hell hounds or something?"

"Yeah, we're not hell hounds anymore, okay? It didn't test that well."

"Ed, what's going on?""

"They're not cops, buddy. No, not at all." Ed laughed.

"Ed, Ed, you had a partner, too, didn't you? A different guy?" She asked, folding her arms.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah."

"Is he around here somewhere?"

"He's running around, chasing ghosts."

"Okay, well, listen, you and Rambo need to get your girlfriends and get out of here." Sam ordered.

"Alright. Listen here, chisel chest, okay? We were here first. We've already set up basecamp. We beat you." Ed laughed at his own joke. Beatrice smirked, turning to Sam.

"They were here first."

"Mhmm." Ed grinned. Beatrice growled, raising her hand and lifting him into the air without touching him. He shrieked, writhing around "Oh, god."

"Ed, where's your partner?" She snapped.

"What are you doing in the Morton House, Ed? on leap year. What are you thinking?"

"We're here to spend the night, okay? It's for our TV show."

"What?" Sam demanded. "Great. Perfect."

"Yeah, nobody's ever spent the night before!" Corbett beamed. Beatrice rolled her eyes and let Ed drop to the ground. He scrambled backwards and stared up at her, but didn't try to question her. Either he was too afraid, or he'd just seen enough when it came to the trio.

"Uh, actually, yeah. They have."

"Uh, we've never heard of 'em." Ed interrupted.

"Yeah, you know why? 'Cause the ones that have haven't lived to talk about it!"

"Oh, come on. I don't believe you." From his bag, Sam retrieved a handful of missing persons reports.

"Look, missing-persons reports going back almost a half century. John Graham stayed on a dare. Gone. Julie Wilkerson. Gone. There are tons more. All of them came to just stay the night through, always on a leap year. The only body they ever found was the last owner, Freeman Daggett."

"These look legit.."

"They are legit. Look, Ed, we ain't got much time here, buddy. Starting at midnight, your friends are going to die." At that moment, a group of other people ran in, and from the opposite direction, so did Dean.

"Oh, my god! Oh, my god! Oh, my god! Oh, my god! Oh, my god! Guys! Guys! Oh, my god! Oh, my god! We got one! Corbett! Corbett, we saw one! We saw one! It was a full apparition! It was like a class four. It was a spectral illumination, it-"

"It was amazing!" It was then the second boy, Harry, noticed Sam, Beatrice and Dean staring at them.

"Hey, aren't those the asses from Texas?!"

"Yep! And this one's a _Witch_."

"All right, let's have this reunion across the street, guys." Dean growled.

"Crap. What are you guys doing here?!"

"Come on, come on. We'll get you ice cream. Our treat. What do you say? Let's go." Beatrice said crossly.

"Yeah, I say no."

"Look at this. Look, look. Ed, Ed. No. No. Look at this. Okay, honest-to-god proof, all right?" The girl ignored the commotion and set up a camera and a laptop. On the screen, a ghost echo appeared.

"Are you kidding me?" Ed gasped.

"Yeah, no. Not kidding."

"What kind of reading did we get?" Another boy asked.

"Uh, it was a 10.9."

"10.9?!"

"Yeah, it was 10.9. It was almost 11. I came out, and I was like, 'what's going on?' And I was like, wait, watch this. Oh! He got blasted. It was crazy."

Beatrice took Sam and Dean's arms and led them into the hall. One of the kids followed them, unnoticed with a camera. "Think we were off on this? I mean, that was just a death echo." She mumbled.

"Yeah, but what's it doing here? Did anybody get shot here?" Sam said.

"No, not that I can find."

"What's a death echo?" The boy asked.

"Echoes are trapped in a loop, okay? They keep replaying how they died over and over and over again, usually in the place where they were ganked. It's about as dangerous as a scary movie." Beatrice explained, as calmly as she could. Sam nodded.

"So maybe the echo's not dangerous, but maybe something else is."

"You're right. Alright, we need to get out of here, guys. Come on. Let's go. Let's go. Let's go. Pack it up."

"Guys, time is running out!"

"We're moving!"

"What about all of our equipment? What are we gonna-" The girl started, but Dean cut her off.

"Lots of fun. Let's go!"

"We got more material. We got all kinds of stuff. We'll make you guys recurring guest stars." Harry said desperately as the trio began to pull the group out. Suddenly, Ed started yelling.

"Wait! Wait. Where's Corbett?! No man left behind!" An anguished scream was heard in the distance, coming from the upper floors of the house. "That was Corbett."

"Corbett! it's okay!" The group ran off, leaving the trio alone with their protests.

"We'll get him! Go back." Dean yelled. "Ah, crap."

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Come on." Beatrice yelled as they chased after the group.

"Corbett's... He's not here. Let's go. Let's go." Sam said gently.

"No. No. No. But that's Corbett. No, that was Corbett. Didn't you hear that?" Harry panicked.

"Go, go, go, come on."

"Guys, guys. He's that way."

"Here we go. Here we go. Keep it moving. Keep it moving."

"Corbett?!" Ed called.

"Hey, hey, hey. Watch him. Watch him." Beatrice jabbed Harry with her light.

"Go. Go. Move. Move. Turn it off!" They arrived back in the main lounge, 'base camp'.

"Oh, god, what's happened? Oh, god. He's gone. He just disappeared." Ed groaned.

"Okay, let's just go through all the angles. Let's go through all the cameras we have."

"Well, it's 12:04, Bea. You good? You happy?" Sam snapped, glaring at Beatrice. She glared back, her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Yeah, I am happy."

"Let's go hunt the Morton house, you said. It's our grand canyon!"

"Sam, I don't want to hear this."

"Dean has two months left, Bea. Instead, we're all going to die tonight!" He reached for a chair and threw it at the door, panting loudly.

"Sammy," she muttered, looking down, "I'm sorry."

"No.. No I am." He pulled her into a tight hug, his face nuzzling against her hair. "It's not your fault. I love you.. I love you."

"I love you too."

He kissed her forehead and straightened up. One of the kids, Beatrice thought he was called Spruce, was eyeing them carefully. "What the hell is going on, guys?" He asked quietly, almost as if he was afraid of the pair. No doubt he'd have heard of Beatrice's levitation trick.

"I'll tell you what's going on. Every door, every window, I'm guessing every exit out of this house; they're all sealed." Sam's gentle demure vanished immediately.

"But.. Why are they sealed?" The girl, Maggie whimpered.

"It's a supernatural lockdown, okay? Whatever took Corbett doesn't want us to leave, and it's no death echo. This is a bad mother, and it wants us scared." Beatrice explained.

"Or it just wants us."

"Uh, guys, the camera's fritzing again." Spruce announced.

"Whoa. Whoa. Guys, the EMF's starting to spike. This is a big one!" Ed mumbled.

"Everybody, stay close. There's something coming." Beatrice muttered. At that moment, another echo appeared. "Is this the same echo you guys saw earlier?" She asked.

"No, it's a different guy."

"Multiple echoes? What the hell's going on?"

"Beats me." Sam shrugged.

"Okay. All right. All right. All right." Beatrice took a step towards the apparition. "Uh, hey, buddy! Hey. Hey. Wake up. You're dead! Hello!?"

"What's she doing?" Harry asked Dean.

"It's rare, but sometimes you can shock an echo out of its loop if you can talk to the part of the ghost that's still human, but usually you have to have some kind of connection to the deceased."

"Come on, wake up! Be dead! Snap out of it, buddy, huh? Come on, what are you waiting for? You're gonzo! You're dead!" She yelled, waving her hands in front of the man's face. Suddenly, there was the sound like a car horn, then the man shot back as if hit by an invisible vehicle.

"Where the hell did it go?" Harry sure did have a lot of questions.

"Dude, there's no records of any of this here. No one got shot here. Obviously, no one got run over by a freaking train." Dean mumbled, glancing at Sam who shrugged.

"Stay close." Beatrice warned as she sharpened a bit of wood with her knife.

"Did the echoes take Corbett?" Maggie whimpered. Beatrice shrugged.

"Yes. No. I don't know. We don't know what's doing what here; that's what we're trying to figure out, okay?"

"All right, stay close. Okay, look, um, death echoes are ghosts, okay? Now, ghosts, they usually haunt places where they lived or where they died." Sam said.

"Except these mooks didn't live, or die here."

"Right."

"So, what are they doing here?" Maggie asked fearfully.

"Hey, give the lady a cigar. All right, seriously, does looking at this nightmare through that camera make you feel better or something? I mean..."

"Um...I, uh... Well, yeah. Uh, yeah. I think so."

"Oh." The group entered a room, filled with stuffed animals and tinned food stuffs. Beatrice wrinkled her nose.

"Freeman Daggett, house's last owner, officially commended for 20 years of fine service at the Gamble General Hospital." She read aloud, holding up a certificate held in a broken picture frame.

"He was a doctor?"

"Janitor."

"This looks like his den. When'd you say he died? 64?"

"Yeah, heart attack."

"What are these? C rations?" Maggie held up a tin filled with some sort of smoked ham.

"Yeah, army issued, three squares. Like a lifetime supply."

"God, is that all he ate?!"

"One stop shopping."

"Oh, come on, guys. This is ridiculous. I mean, how the hell is this supposed to find Corbett, huh? We should be digging up the friggin' floorboards right now." Ed yelled, tears filling his eyes. Beatrice ignored him, flicking through a dusty, torn pamphlet.

"Huh. Survival under atomic attack. An optimist. Crap. Crap. Taxidermy. Okay. You said Daggett was a hospital janitor?"

"Yeah."

"Oh.. Got three toe tags here; one, death by gunshots, train accident, and suicide."

"Oh..." Sam and Dean looked as if they were only just getting it.

"What?" Harry looked at them oddly.

"Well, that explains why all the death echoes are here. They're here because their bodies are here... Somewhere in the house? Daggett brought them home from the morgue. To 'play'."

"Eww! Ugh!" Ed and Harry groaned.

"That's nasty, dude." Spruce whined.

"Right.. Wait a minute." Maggie had left the group, and was now gone. Beatrice swore loudly.

"I'll find her, you guys stay here." Dean said. He left, then returned minutes later with Maggie, who was near tears.

"Harry. Harry, I got an 8.6 and climbing fast. Something huge is coming. Look. Something big is coming." Ed yelled, staring at the EMF reader.

"It's past 11, you guys." Harry added.

"What? Nobody move! Hold on. Hold on. Stay quiet." Beatrice yelled, feeling Sam's hand on hers leave.

"It's really cold in here.." Ed mumbled. Beatrice turned to Sam to get his opinion on the matter only to find him gone. Her hands flew to her mouth.

"Oh my God."

"Where'd he go?" Spruce asked stupidly. Dean looked just as panicked.

"Sam?"

"Where do you think he went?" Beatrice snarled. "Whatever took your little friend took Sam. God, you people are stupid. He promised me, Dean! He promised me we'd be okay."

"Bea? Bea, woah, hey. Look at me." He placed a gentle hand on her chin and turned her face to look at him, "listen, we're going to find him, right? I swear it."

"Sammy?" Beatrice stalked through the corridors, her gun gripped tightly in her hand and in the other, she conjured a small flame. No one dared question her. Meanwhile, Maggie and Harry were entertaining themselves in a back room. He had her up against the wall while they made out ferociously. Ed whirled Harry away from his sister and punched him hard in the face.

Dean growled, storming towards them. "What the hell are you doing?! Cut it out! We are down by two people!"

The fight stalled to a halt and Beatrice rolled her eyes. With that, she turned in the opposite direction and took to searching again. Back in Daggett's supplies room, she searched desperately through dog eared files and papers. "Okay, so Daggett was a cold war nut, okay? He was.. He was an amateur taxidermist. He liked to slow dance with cadavers, and all he ate were c-rations, so what the hell are we looking for?" She thought aloud with a little panic in her voice.

"Horrible little life." Maggie muttered.

"Yeah, a lonely life...A cold war life. He was scared. He was scared...He was scared." She ran from the room.

"Scared of what? What? Dean, Beatrice? Where are you going?"

"Wait, don't leave me in here, you guys."

"Whoa, whoa. Where are you going?!" Maggie cried, chasing after the pair. Dean shook his head.

"Guys like Daggett back then, the ones who were really scared of the Russkies, they built bomb shelters. I'm guessing he's got one. I'll bet you it's in the basement."

Beatrice raced into the basement, closely followed by Spruce but the door slammed behind them, separating them from the rest of the group. "Woah!"

"That is so not funny!"

"Um, who closed the door?!"

"It did. It wants to separate us." Dean said darkly, shaking his head. Beatrice groaned and tried to blow the door open, but nothing worked.

"Dean, listen to me!" She called.

"What?"

"My magic isn't working. There's some salt in my duffel." She heard Dean repeating the instructions to the others.

"Inside?" Ed demanded.

"That's stupid." Harry snickered.

"Inside her duffel bag?!"

"Inside the salt, you idiots!" Beatrice yelled, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, okay. Yeah. Yeah." Beatrice tip toed down the basement steps and in any other situation, she would have felt like she was in a cheesy spy novel.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Spruce asked, glancing at her. She shrugged.

"What?"

"Earlier, when you and Sam were fighting, he said Dean going to die in two months?"

"Yeah, it's complicated. A while ago, Sam... No. No. No. I'm not gonna whine about our problems to some reality show. I'm 'gonna do my job."

"Is it cancer?"

"You shut up. Hear that?"

"Is that _music_?"

"Yeah, it's coming from behind this wall." With a wave of her hand, the cabinet swung free from the wall to reveal a door. Spruce's eyes widened.

"Wow! You're strong for a girl!" She rolled her eyes and flashed her middle finger at him. She flicked a ball of fire at the lock and it fell away, forcing the door open to reveal a bomb shelter. Sat at a long table, surrounded by corpses, was Sam.

"Sam!" She cried. She shot salt at Daggett who disappeared and, gritting her teeth, ran over to Sam who smiled weakly at her.

"God, Bea. Am I glad to see you." Opposite Sam was a fresh corpse. Corbett. Ignoring him, though she didn't really want to, she quickly undid Sam's ropes with her knife.

"You okay baby?" She asked gently, helping him up. He shrugged.

"I've been better.. But yeah. Fine."

"I'm glad." She helped him back up to the basement door and left him with Spruce while she tried to break it down with her gun butt.

"Seriously, you're still shooting?" Sam raised an eyebrow, pointing to the camera.

"It makes him feel better. Don't ask." Beatrice sighed.

"Ah, hell, guys. Get in your ghost-role thing. Something's coming." Spruce said urgently. As he spoke, Daggett appeared behind him and kicked him hard, sending the camera flying. The ghost approached him, but Sam shot at it and the ghost disappeared.

"Take it easy. you alright?" Beatrice raised an eyebrow. The camera flickered again.

"Uh.. Guys?" Spruce pointed a finger behind Beatrice where Daggett had appeared again. He placed two strong hands between her shoulder blades and shoved her down the stairs. She fell, but Sam caught her near to the bottom and helped her to her feet.

"This is bad, very bad." Spruce cried. Beatrice laughed bitterly.

"You don't say." The ghost flicked his hand, sending Sam and Beatrice crashing into the brick wall adjacent to them. The lights flickered, before another ghost appeared.

"C-Corbett?" Spruce whimpered. Corbett threw himself at Daggett and the two fought for a matter of seconds before disappearing in a puff of smoke. The door above them swung open and Beatrice spat blood.

"You guys alright?" Spruce asked. Autumn swore at him, before covering the camera lense with her hand.

"I'm sorry. I mean this is all my fault, I know that. But what you're doing, it's not gonna save me. It's only gonna kill you. " Dean said softly. Sam looked away, tears bubbling in his eyes.

"Then, what am I supposed to do?"

"Keep fighting. Take care of my wheels, marry Bea. Sam, remember what Dad taught you, okay? And… Remember what I taught you." A sad smile passed over Dean's face and he turned to Beatrice who was struggling to suppress her tears. "I hope you know how much I love you."

"I do. Of course I do."

"Take care of him, Bea. And be happy, please. For me, be happy."

Behind Beatrice the Grandfather clock chimed, and she let out a choked sob. "I'm sorry, Dean," Ruby said softly, "I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemies."

The low growl of a dog came from behind the door and Dean visibly tensed up, his eyes widening in pure terror. "Hellhound." He whispered.

"Where?"

"There."

He ran suddenly, past the dog into the next room. The others followed and Ruby slammed the doors, pressing her back against them while Dean frantically spread goofer dust around the room. "Give me the knife," Ruby demanded, "maybe I can fight it off."

Sam stared at her like she'd lost her mind. "What?"

"Come on! That dust won't last forever!"

"Wait!" Dean held up a hand to stop Sam before he can hand the knife over. "Sam, that's not Ruby! It's not Ruby!" The demon's expression changed suddenly, becoming more childlike and with a few flicks of her hand, Sam and Beatrice were pinned to the wall while Dean was atop the table. "How long have you been in her?" He snarled.

"Not long. But I like it. It's all grown up and pretty."

"And where's Ruby?" Sam challenged her.

"She was a very bad girl, so I sent her very far away."

"You know," Dean laughed bitterly, "I should have seen it before. But you all look alike to me."

Lilith ignored him and her head snapped towards Sam. "Hello, Sam. I've wanted to meet you for a very long time." She grasped his chin in her hands and, against his will, forced him to kiss her. Their lips sizzled as they met and Beatrice growled, struggling against her invisible restraints.

"Your lips are soft." Lilith said breathlessly.

"Right, so you have me. Let my brother and my girlfriend go."

"Silly goose. You want to bargain, you have to have something I want. You don't."

"So this is your big plan, huh? Drag me to Hell, kill Sam and Bea. And then what? Become Queen Bitch?" Dean smirked but Beatrice could see the fear in his eyes.

"I don't have to answer to puppy chow." She crossed the room to the double doors and opened them. Dean's eyes widened in fear when he saw the hound. "Sic em, boy." Lilith said softly.

Though Beatrice couldn't see the dog, she didn't need to, because she could see very clearly what it could do. The beast grabbed Dean by the ankles, dragging him off the table as he screamed in terror. "No, stop!" She cried, helpless to do anything.

The hound attacked his chest and Dean rolled onto his front, trying to crawl away. The hound however was not to be deterred and slashed across his back and shoulder. "STOP IT!" Sam screamed. The hound turned Dean over and slashed his chest again. Blood bubbled up through the tears in his shirt. He had stopped screaming, but he wasn't dead.

"Yes." Lilith smiled, satisfied. She raised her hand and white light exploded from her palm. Beatrice cringed away, bracing for impact, but when she opened her eyes Lilith was staring at them, terrified while Sam slowly got to his feet, his eyes wide. "Back." She stuttered.

Sam drew in a breath and advanced towards her. Lilith cried out. "I said back!"

"I don't think so."

He reared back, clutching the knife and he made a move to stab her but black smoke billowed from her mouth and the vessel collapsed beside Dean, dead. Sam staggered to his brother, cradling his head as tears streamed down his face. Beatrice crouched beside him, her hand on his shoulder as she tried to stifle a sob. She had to be strong for him now. "No… No, Dean." Sam pleaded.

Beatrice reached out, her touch gentle and she closed Dean's eyes. It was over.


	4. Chapter 4

Season 4

_"Beatrice, are you sure you want to do this?"_

_"Of course I'm sure, Bobby. I love him."_

_She stared at the closed doors, suddenly unsure. "Hey," Bobby's hand rested on her shoulder and he offered her a warm smile, "I'm proud of you, Sweetheart."_

_"Thanks, Bobby," Beatrice smiled back. "I just wish Dean could be here to see this."_

_"Yeah, me too. Now go on, knock em' dead." Bobby placed his hand on the door and pushed it open a crack, just enough for Beatrice to step through into the long aisle of the chapel. To calm her nerves, she took a second to readjust her bouquet and then she walked, one step at a time, down to the altar where the love of her life was waiting for her._

_He took her hand, holding it in a vice like grip. His eyes, however, didn't meet hers._

_"You did this." He whispered, and when he turned to her, it wasn't Sam anymore, it was Dean and his eyes were bleeding and his skin was cold. Beatrice cried out, snatching her hand away and sprinting down the aisle. Cold hands shot out from the pews and snagged at the hem of her dress, nearly tripping her but she hung firm._

_She pushed the doors opened and stumbled through, but was stopped by a little blonde girl dressed in a bloody pink frock. She smiled, but it didn't meet her eyes. "Hiya, Bea!"_

Beatrice awoke with a start. A cold sweat glued her hair to her forehead and her cheeks were damp with tears she hadn't felt fall. Realizing she was sat, she collapsed back against her pillow, breathless. Across the room there was a slight movement and Bobby lifted his head from the sofa.

"Bea? Are you alright?" He said softly.

His voice and the small weight of the engagement ring around her finger momentarily grounded her and she nodded. "I'm fine. Just a dream."

He sat up, one eyebrow raised. "The same one?"

She nodded mutely. He sighed, moving across the room to her and he pulled her into his embrace, letting her lay her head on his shoulder. The gentle thud of his heartbeat helped to slow her own until eventually her labored breathing returned to normal and she smiled weakly. "Better?" He asked, and she nodded again.

"Better."

"Come on, I'll make you some coffee." He got up and smiled warmly at her, going into the kitchen while she dressed in a black knitted jumper and some tight, dark blue jeans. She joined him in the other room and he smiled at her from the sideboard where he brewed a fresh coffee pot.

Beatrice sat at the table, picking up a newspaper. A comfortable silence fell over the kitchen, broken only by a knock on the door. The two exchanged a glance. "I got it." Beatrice said and got up, tucking a knife into the back of her jeans.

She peeled back the curtain covering the window and looked out, but the frosted window made it difficult to make out exactly who it was. Sighing, she dropped the cover and opened the door. She wasn't sure what she expected, a girl scout maybe, or at least an old friend of Bobby's.

She wasn't expecting it to be Dean.

They stared at each other for a second. Neither said anything, until Dean offered a, "surprise?"

"I… I don't…"

"Me neither. But here I am." He took a step forward, opening his arms as though he expected a hug but Beatrice had different ideas. Panicked, she ripped the knife from her jeans and slashed at him. Dean yelped and grabbed her arm and twisted and though she was momentarily filled with anxiety, she broke free and hit him hard across the face. "Bea! It's me!"

"My ass!"

The commotion in the hall drew the attention of Bobby who ran in from the kitchen but neither Beatrice nor Dean acknowledged him. Dean grabbed a chair, holding it between him and Beatrice but she threw it to one side with a small flick of her hand. "Woah, woah woah wait! Your name is Beatrice Elizabeth Wells. You became a hunter after your sister got possessed, and... You're about the closest thing I have to a sister. Bea! It's _me_." He tried to assure her but she shook her head in disbelief.

Beatrice hesitated for a moment and lowered the knife, but when she approached him she changed her mind and tried to cut him. Dean took hold of her arm again and twisted so hard that she dropped it and staggered back, crying out. "I am not a shapeshifter!" He insisted.

"Then you're a revenant!"

"Alright. If I was either, could I do this?" Holding one hand in surrender he crouched to the ground and picked up the knife, raising it to his forearm and making a small cut.

"D-Dean?" She whispered, suddenly convinced.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you!"

Beatrice hesitated again but came to the conclusion it was really him and she pulled him into her arms, breathless as she rested her head on his strong chest. "It's… Good to see you." She whispered as she parted and Bobby hugged Dean just as tightly.

"Yeah, you too. Both of you."

"But how did you bust out?" Bobby asked, leading Dean and Beatrice back to the kitchen where the coffee pot was beginning to come to a boil.

"I don't know. I just uh, woke up in a pine box-" Dean started, but Bobby splashed a vial of holy water in his face, cutting him off. "I'm not a Demon either, you know."

"Sorry. Can't be too careful."

Beatrice pressed a towel into his hand and he wiped his face dry. "This doesn't make any sense." She commented, raising her eyebrows in question. Dean took a second to notice that she'd dyed her hair back to her natural dark brown. He thought it suited her.

"Yeah. You're preaching to the choir."

"Dean," Bobby said carefully, "your chest was ribbons, your insides were slop. And you've been buried _four months_. Even if you could slip out of hell and back into your meat suit…"

"I know. I should look like a Thriller video reject."

"What do you remember?"

"Not much. I remember I was a Hellhound's chew toy, and then… Lights out. Then I come to six feet under and that's it." He cast an anxious glance around the kitchen, "Sam's number's not working. He's not, uh, he's not…?"

Beatrice smiled bitterly. "Oh, he's alive. Far as we know."

"Good! Wait, what do you mean far as you know?"

Beatrice and Bobby exchanged a nervous glance before she went on. "We haven't talked to him in months." She admitted, a little awkwardly.

"You're kidding. You just let him go off by himself?"

"He was dead set on it."

"Bobby, you should have been looking after him."

"I tried," Bobby snapped, "these last few months haven't been easy, you know. For him, or for us. We had to bury you."

"Why did you bury me, anyway?"

"I wanted you salted and burned, usual drill. But… Sam wouldn't have it."

"Well, I'm glad he won that one."

"He said you'd need a body when he got you back home somehow." Beatrice interrupted, shooting Dean a knowing look. "That's about all he said."

"What do you mean?"

Beatrice took a long drink of coffee. It near enough burned the skin from the roof of her mouth but she barely noticed. "He was quiet. Real quiet, and then he just… Took off. Wouldn't return my calls. I tried to find him, Dean, I swear to you I did, but he didn't want to be found."

"Oh, dammit Sammy."

"What?"

"Oh, he got me home okay. But whatever he did, it is bad mojo."

"What makes you so sure?"

"You should have seen the grave site. It was like a nuke went off. And then there was this force, this_presence_, I don't know, but it blew past me at a fill up joint. And then this." He lifted his sleeve to reveal a human handprint singed into his skin.

"What in the Hell?"

"It was like a demon yanked me out. Or rode me out."

"But why?"

"To uphold their end of the bargain."

"You think Sam made a deal."

Dean smiled and nodded bitterly. "It's what I would have done."

"Yeah, hi, I have a cell phone account with you guys, and uh, I lost my phone. I was wondering if you could turn the GPS on for me… Yeah. Name's Wedge Antilles… Social is 2-4-7-4… Thank you." Dean hung up and set the phone down on the table with a triumphant smile.

"How'd you know he'd use that name?" Bobby asked.

"You kidding me? What don't I know about that kid?" He opened the lid of his laptop and typed in silence for a moment. "Hey, Bobby? What's the deal with the liquor store? What, are your parents out of town or something?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at the number of empty bottles scattered around.

"Like I said. Last few months ain't been all that easy." Bobby said.

Dean held his gaze for a moment before mumbling, "right," and going back to typing on the computer. "Sam's in Pontiac, Illinois."

"Right near where you were planted." Beatrice observed aloud, peering over his broad shoulders at the screen.

"Right where I popped up. Hell of a coincidence, don't you think?"

The motel was possibly one of the dingiest Beatrice had seen. Wallpaper peeled from the walls, mold grew in the corners, and every window was cracked horribly. She shuddered from the cold. "Room two-oh-seven." She read aloud, coming to a stop outside a door, and she knocked loudly.

The door opened to reveal a young woman, dressed in a tank top and underwear. "So, where is it?" She asked, looking at them expectantly.

Dean stared at her. "Where's what?"

"The pizza. That takes three people to deliver?"

"I… Think we got the wrong room." He made like he was going to leave, but behind the woman, Sam stepped into the light. Beatrice met his eye and he saw how hurt her expression was, but he said nothing and his gaze swam back to his brother.

"Heya, Sammy," Dean said quietly. The woman stepped aside to let the three in and Dean smiled weakly. As he got a little closer, Sam lunged, pulling a knife from his back pocket. The woman screamed and pressed her back against the wall. Beatrice swore, trying to pull Sam off.

"Who are you?" Sam yelled, struggling as Bobby helped to tug him off.

"Like you didn't do this!" Dean yelled back.

"Do _what_?"

"It's him!" Beatrice yelled, "we've been through this already. It's _really_ him."

The struggle faded from Sam's body and he threw Bobby and Beatrice off. "What?"

"I look fantastic, huh?" Dean smiled.

Sam stumbled forward, pulling Dean into his arms. They embraced for a moment, while Beatrice watched on, tears in her eyes. "So are you two like… Together?" The woman asked. Beatrice had forgotten she was there.

"What?" Sam asked, "no. No. He's my brother."

"Uh… Got it. I… I guess I should probably go."

"Yeah. Yeah, that's probably a good idea. Sorry."

The woman disappeared into the bathroom and emerged dressed in a little blue button up. "So, call me." She said with a smile.

"Yeah. Yeah, sure thing, Kathy."

Her face fell. "Kristy."

"Right."

He closed the door and slumped onto the sofa while Dean and Bobby hovered over him. Beatrice lingered by the door, her gaze burning uncomfortably into Sam's. He did his best to ignore it but he felt he was wilting under her stare.

"So, tell me, what'd it cost?" Dean asked firmly.

Sam raised an eyebrow, bemused. "The girl? I don't pay." He tried to make a joke but Beatrice scoffed, clearly unimpressed. She toyed with the ring around her finger, and Sam noticed.

"That's not funny, Sam," Dean scolded him, "to bring me back, what'd it cost? Was it just your soul, or was it something else?"

"That's exactly what we think." Bobby cut in.

"Well, I didn't."

Dean leaned in close, his eyes narrowed. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying!"

"So what now? I'm off the hook and you're on, is that it? You're some Demon's bitch boy? I didn't want to be saved like this!"

"Look, Dean, I wish I had done it, alright?"

Dean's fist curled around Sam's shirt but Beatrice waved her hand lazily with a look of disinterest, separating them. "There's no other way this could have gone down," he said angrily, "now tell the truth!"

"I tried everything. That's the truth. I tried opening the Devil's Gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, all right? You were rotting in Hell for months. For _months_, and I couldn't stop it. So I'm sorry it wasn't me, all right? Dean, I'm _sorry_."

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean said uneasily, "you don't have to apologise. I believe you."

"Don't get me wrong," Beatrice said with a little bitterness as she stepped forward, "I am gladdened that Sam's soul remains intact, but it does raise a sticky question."

"If he didn't pull me out, what did?"

Dean and Bobby disappeared into the hall for a moment to talk things over, leaving Beatrice alone with Sam. She suspected it was just to get them alone, but of course, she couldn't prove it. "Bea-" He started, but she held up a hand, silencing him.

"Honestly? I don't want to hear your apology. For four months you left me in the dark. Hell, you could have been dead for all I knew. Not a single word, Sam! And this whole time, you've been hooking up with God knows who." She trailed off, breathless as her voice rose to a yell. "Sam… I loved you. I promised my life to you, I really did. But now I look at you, and I don't know you anymore."

"Bea…" He crossed the room to her and rested his hand on her cheek. She flinched, but she'd missed his touch and therefore didn't push him away. "There's nothing I can say that can make this better." He started, but she cut him off again.

"You're damn right there isn't."

"Would you let me finish?" He yelled, and when she stared at him, he sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Dammit, Bea, I messed up. But I swear, _I swear_, she was the only one. I was just so Goddamn lonely." His eyes flickered down to her hand. "You kept the ring?"

"I was holding on to hope that you'd come home." She whispered. Tears sprung into her eyes but she furiously wiped them away. "We promised we'd be forever. That's what this ring meant."

"Bea, look at me," he gently tilted her chin up to look at him. "I don't want to lose you. I don't, not now. Please, _please_, don't let this be the end for us. Dammit, Bea, I love you!"

Beatrice hesitated, but one look in his dark eyes and she practically melted. "Last chance." She said eventually, "you screw up like this again, and it's over. You hear me, Winchester?"

"I hear you." He promised and she smiled.

"Hey, I learnt a new trick while you were gone." She grinned. He looked at her expectantly and she furrowed her brow in concentration. Slowly, her feet left the ground until she was eye level with him. "Now I don't have to stand on my tip toes to kiss you." She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "_God_, I missed that."

"So did I." He said gently and watched as her feet hit the ground again. "That was incredible. _You're_ incredible."

"Sometimes it scares me, not knowing exactly what I'm capable of but sometimes, it just makes life a little bit easier." She smiled sadly and behind her, the door opened and Dean and Bobby came back in, both of them grinning.

Dean smirked at Beatrice. "So with that resolved, can we get back to the issue of me being magically resurrected?"

Beatrice sat on the sofa, sandwiched between Dean and Bobby while Sam passed around bottles of beer from the mini fridge. "So what were you doing out here if you weren't digging me out of my grave?" Dean asked as Beatrice opened the bottle for him with a click of her fingers.

"Well, once I figured out I couldn't save you, I started hunting down Lilith, trying to get some payback." He explained and sat in the armchair by the bed.

"All by yourself," Bobby said accusingly, "who do you think you are, your old man?"

Something caught Dean's eye while Bobby spoke and he crossed the room, peering at the object for closer inspection. "Uh, yeah. I'm sorry Bobby. I should have called, I was pretty messed up." Sam said softly, glancing at Beatrice who offered him an encouraging smile.

Dean crouched down and picked up the mysterious object, a flowery pink bra. He turned to his brother with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. "Oh, yeah. I really feel your pain."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Anyways, uh, I was checking out these demons out of Tennessee, and out of nowhere they took a hard left, booked up here."

"When?"

"Yesterday morning."

"When I busted out."

"You think these demons are here because of you?" Beatrice asked with a raised eyebrow, taking a long drink of her beer. "But why?"

"Well, I don't know. Some badass demon drags me out and now this? It's gotta be connected somehow."

"How you feeling, anyway?"

"I'm a little hungry."

"No, I mean, do you feel yourself? Anything strange or different?"

"Or demonic? Bea, how many times do I have to prove I'm me?"

"Yeah. Well, listen. No demon's letting you loose out of the goodness of their hearts. They've gotta have something nasty planned." Bobby said with a sigh.

"Well, I feel fine." Dean insisted.

"Okay, look, we don't know what they're planning," Sam said, "we got a pile of questions and no shovel. We need help."

"I know a psychic, few hours from here. Something this big, maybe she's heard the other side talking." Bobby suggested. He finished his beer and got to his feet.

"Hell yeah, it's worth a shot."

"I'll be right back." Bobby tossed the bottle in the trash and left, leaving Dean, Beatrice and Sam alone. It felt like old times again and Beatrice felt a little smile tug at the corners of her lips. Seeing the brother's serious expressions, however, she stifled it.

"Hey, wait." Sam said as Dean went to leave, "you probably want this back." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace which he pressed into Dean's hand. Beatrice recognized it as the amulet he'd gifted him as a child.

Dean smiled. "Thanks."

"Yeah, don't mention it." After a beat, Sam said, "hey Dean, what was it like?"

"What, Hell? I don't know. I… I must have blacked it out. I don't remember a damn thing."

"Well, thank God for that."

"Yeah."

Beatrice stared at Dean, narrowing her eyes. One look at him and she knew he was lying, but if he was it would be for a reason so she decided not to press it. Not until later, at least.

The three followed Bobby down a set of steps leading from the motel to the parking lot. "She's about four hours down the interstate," he called over his shoulder, "try to keep up."

He got in his car and the three others lingered by the Impala. Sam smiled warmly at Dean, "I assume you'll want to drive." He fished the keys from his right pocket and tossed them to his brother who caught them in his left.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" He ran a hand lovingly over the body of the car, "hey, Sweetheart. Did you miss me?"

"I swear, he missed that car more than he missed us." Beatrice said to Sam with a smile as Dean got in the driver's seat. Sam got in shotgun, while Beatrice clambered into the back. Dean shot Sam a harsh glare.

"What the hell is that?"

"That's an iPod jack."

"You were supposed to take care of her. Not douche her up."

"Dean, I thought it was my car."

Dean sneered and turned the key in the ignition. Vision by Jason Manns started to play, causing Dean to roll his eyes and glare at Sam again. "Really?"

Sam shrugged innocently. Dean tore the iPod from the jack and threw it into the back seat, watching Beatrice catch it in the rear view mirror with a grin.

"There's still one thing that's bothering me." Dean said. The Impala cruised down a long stretch of road and outside, it was dark. Sam turned to him, an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, the night I bit it. Or… Got bit." He laughed at his own joke before he went on, "how'd you make it out? I thought Lilith was going to kill you."

"Well, she tried. She couldn't."

"What do you mean, she couldn't?"

Sam went quiet, so Beatrice went on for him. "She fired this, like, burning light as us. And… Didn't leave a scratch. Like we were immune or something."

"Immune?"

"Yeah. I don't know who was more surprised, us or her. I mean, I guess I make sense. I have some pretty strong mojo going on, most of it I don't even know about yet. She left pretty fast after that."

"Huh. What about Ruby, where is she?"

"Dead. For now." Sam said, joining in again.

"So, you've been using your uh, freaky ESP stuff?" Dean asked awkwardly. Sam immediately shook his head for a little too long, so he looked like a deranged cartoon character.

"No."

"You sure about that? Well I mean, now that you've got immunity, whatever the Hell that is, just wondering what other kind of weirdo crap you've got going on."

"Nothing, Dean. Look, you didn't want me to go down that road so I _didn't_ go down that road. It was practically your dying wish."

"Yeah, well, let's keep it that way."

The Impala pulled up behind Bobby's car. Beatrice got out first, throwing her hair up into a ponytail. Bobby was waiting for them by the door and he knocked as Beatrice approached. Almost immediately the door opened and an attractive woman in her early thirties greeted them. "Bobby!"

She embraced him in a hug, lifting him briefly off the ground. Sam and Beatrice exchanged a glance. "You're a sight for sore eyes." Bobby laughed.

"So, these the boys? And the little lady, of course."

"Sam, Dean, Beatrice. This is Pamela Barnes, best damn psychic in the state."

"Hey," Dean said flirtily the same time Beatrice and Sam said, "hi," awkwardly. Pamela grinned at Dean.

"Mm, mm mm. Dean Winchester. Out of the fire and back in the frying pan, huh? Makes you a rare individual." She smirked.

"If you say so."

"Come in."

She ushered them inside and closed the door behind them. "So, you hear anything?" Bobby asked with both his eyebrows raised.

"Well, I Ouija'd my way through a dozen spirits. No one seems to know who broke your boy out, or why."

"So what's next?"

"A séance, I think. See if we can see who did the deed."

"You're not gonna summon it here?" Beatrice said in disbelief.

"No. I just want to get a sneak peek at it. Like a crystal ball without the crystal."

"I'm game." Dean smiled.

Pamela spread a symbol covered, black tablecloth over a small table. She squatted in front of a cabinet, revealing a scribbled 'Jesse forever' tattoo on her lower back. Dean observed it carefully and asked, "who's Jesse," a little insensitively.

Pamela, however, laughed. "Well, it wasn't forever."

"His loss."

She stood, arranging a variety of candles on the table. "Might be your gain."

She sauntered by and Dean grinned at Beatrice. "Dude, I am so in."

"Yeah, she's gonna' eat you alive."

"Hey, I just got out of jail. Bring it."

Pamela passed by again and winked at Sam. "You're invited too, grumpy."

"You are _not_ invited." Beatrice broke in.

The four of them gathered around the table and Beatrice watched intently as Pamela lit the candles. "Right, take each other's hands," she said, "and I need to touch something our mystery monster touched." She ran her hand up his inner thigh, making him jump.

"Woah. Well, he didn't touch me there."

"My mistake."

Dean looked a little nervous but lifted his sleeve to reveal the handprint. Neither Beatrice nor Bobby reacted but Sam stared at him, shocked. Pamela rested her hand on the mark. "Okay." She drew in a deep breath, "I invoke, conjure and command you. Appar unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure and command you. Appar unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure and command you. Appar unto me before this circle." Behind her, the TV flicked the static. "I invoke, conjure and command… Castiel? No. Sorry, Castiel. I don't scary easy."

"Castiel?" Dean looked at her questioningly."

"It's name. It's whispering to me, warning me to turn back." Beneath their hands, the table shook violently. "I conjure and command you. Show me your face. I conjure and command you. Show me your face. I conjure and command you. Show me your face. I conjure and command you. Show me your face."

The shaking became more violent and Bobby looked at the table uneasily. "Maybe we should stop." He suggested. Beatrice cold sense the anxiety in his voice.

"I almost got it," Pamela assured him, "I command you, show me your face! Show me your face, now!" The candles flared several feet in the air and Pamela screamed, a haunting, blood curdling noise that Beatrice knew would haunt her forever. As she slumped to the floor, the static and the shaking came to a stop. Bobby crouched beside her, panicked.

"Call 9-1-1!"

Pamela's eyes flew open to reveal bleeding, empty sockets. "I can't see!" She sobbed, "I can't see, oh God!"

"Be up in a jiff!" The waitress said cheerfully and disappeared back into the kitchen.

"You bet." Beatrice said into the phone and slid into the booth beside Sam.

"What'd Bobby say?" Dean asked.

"Pam's stable, and out of I.C.U."

"And blind, because of us."

"And we still have no clue who we're dealing with." Sam cut in.

"That's not entirely true." Beatrice reminded him.

"No?"

"We got a name, Castiel or whatever. With the right mumbo-jumbo we could summon him, bring him right to us."

"You're crazy." Sam scoffed. "Absolutely not."

"We'll work him over. I mean, after what he did?" Dean joined in.

"Pam took a peek at him and her eyes burned out of her skull, and you want to have a face to face?"

"You got a better idea?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do. I followed some demons to town, right?"

"Okay."

"So, we go find them. Someone's gotta' know something about something."

The waitress returned a moment later, balancing three pieces of pie which she set down in front of the trio, before she slid into the booth. Dean stared at her, smirking. "You angling for a tip?"

"I'm sorry. Thought you were looking for us." Her eyes flashed black for a moment. A uniformed man by the counter and a cook behind him also looked over, and their eyes were black as well. The waitress smiled and her eyes returned to normal. "Dean. To hell and back. Aren't you a lucky duck?" She taunted him. Dean smiled cynically.

"That's me."

"So, you get to just stroll out of the pit, huh? Tell me. What makes you so special?"

"I like to think it's because of my perky nipples." When no one laughed, he went on, "I don't know. Wasn't my doing. I don't know who pulled me out."

"Right. You don't." The demon scoffed, visibly unconvinced.

"No, I don't."

"Lying's a sin, you know."

"I'm not lying. But I'd like to find out, so if you wouldn't mind enlightening me…" He trailed off, glancing at the badge on her front. "Flo?"

"Mind your tone with me, boy," she spat, "I'll drag you back to Hell myself."

While Sam looked as though he was gearing for an attack, Dean smiled and shook his head with perhaps a little too much confidence. "No, you won't."

"No."

"No. Because if you were you would have done it already. Fact is, you don't know who cut me loose. And you're just as spooked as we are. And you're looking for answers. Well, maybe it was some turbo-charged spirit. Or, uh, Godzilla. Or some big bad boss demon. I'm guessing at your pay grade that they don't tell you squat. Because whoever it was, they want me out. And they're a lot stronger than you. So go ahead. Send me back. But don't come crawling to me when they show up on your front doorstep with some Vaseline and a fire hose." He said.

"I'm going to reach down your throat and rip out your lungs."

Dean leaned forward in his seat, anticipating his challenge. He seemed to think something over, then threw a right hook straight into her face. The demon's head snapped to the side, but other than that, didn't offer much of a reaction. He threw another and even then, she only glared at him.

"That's what I thought," he smirked. "Let's go, guys." He paused by the door and dropped a ten dollar bill on the table, almost like an insult. "For the pie."

"Holy crap, that was close." Beatrice laughed nervously as they stepped onto the street.

"We're not just going to leave them in there, are we?" Sam asked in disbelief.

"Well yeah. There's three of them, probably more, and we've only got one knife and a witch between us." He said tiredly.

"I've been killing a lot more demons than that lately."

"Not anymore. The smarter brother's back in town."

"Dean, we've got to take 'em. They are_dangerous_."

"They're scared, okay? Scared of whatever had the juice to yank me out. We're dealing with a bad mofo here. One job at a time."

While Dean dozed on the sofa, Beatrice flicked through a copy of A Clockwork Orange. The television across the room from her flicked on to the now-familiar static and though she didn't notice at first, she _did_notice the low whine of the radio. "Dean?" She said softly, setting the book down.

"Yeah, I'm up." He grunted, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He got up from the sofa, arming himself with a shotgun he had propped up by the door. He cast a glance around, and when he felt confident that they were alone, he sat down again but a high pitched screech filled the room, blowing in the windows and causing a mirror on the ceiling to smash. Shards of glass rained on them and Beatrice screamed, dropping to the floor beside him.

"DEAN!"

The hired car cruised down the highway. Dean had one hand on the wheel while he wiped blood from his face with the other. "You alright?" Beatrice said softly.

"Aside from the church bells ringing in my head, peachy."

Beatrice sighed and took her phone from her pocket, dialling Sam's number. "Hey." He said as soon as he picked up. The casualness of his tone annoyed her and she scowled.

"What are you doing?"

"Couldn't sleep. Went to get a burger."

"In the Impala?"

"Force of habit, sorry. What are you doing up?"

"Well, uh, Dean and I are going to grab a beer."

From the driver's seat, Dean shot her a look but she ignored him. When Sam spoke, she could hear the surprise in his voice. "Alright," he said, "well uh, spill some for me, huh?"

"Done. Catch you later." Beatrice hung up and slipped the phone back into her pocket. Dean stared at her, his eyebrows raised.

"Why the hell didn't you tell him?"

"Because he just tried to stop us."

"From what?"

"Summoning this thing."

Beatrice spray painted a large symbol on the wall, humming under her breath. She backed up, satisfied with her work, and looked around at the varying symbols she'd painted on the walls, floor, and ceiling. Dean looked up from the table where he was preparing equipment.

"That's a hell of an art project you've got going there." He said.

Beatrice smiled. "Traps and talismans from every faith on the planet. How you doing?"

"Stakes, iron, silver, salt, knife. I mean, we're pretty much set to catch and kill anything I've ever heard of, so, what do you say we ring the dinner bell?"

Beatrice grinned and nodded, crossing the table and taking a little pinch of gray powder from a gray bowl. She looked at Dean, who nodded encouragingly and she sprinkled it into a much larger bowl. "You ready?" She said softly. He nodded again, and so she began to chant.

Moments passed, and nothing happened. Beatrice looked around expectantly but even then, the warehouse remained silent. "You sure you did the ritual right?" Dean challenged her jokingly, but seeing her furious expression he held up his hands innocently. "Sorry. Touchy, huh?"

Above them, a loud rattling shook the roof and Beatrice dove to the table, arming herself with a shotgun. "Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind." Dean said bitterly.

Opposite them, the double doors burst open and a man dressed in a smart suit and trenchcoat stalked in. His hair was tousled and messy, and his deeply set eyes were a piercing blue that for a moment, froze Beatrice where she stood. The light bulbs above his head shattered one by one as he approached them and in a panic, Beatrice and Dean opened fire but the shots didn't even slow him down. Dean snatched up the demon knife from the table and plunged it deeply into his chest, but the man only looked down, unfazed, and pulled it out.

"Who are you?" Dean demanded.

"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." The man said monotonously. Dean smiled sarcastically and nodded.

"Yeah, thanks for that."

Behind the man Beatrice lifted her hand, intending to throw him into the wall but he turned and tapped his fingertips to her forehead. The last thing she saw before everything went black was Dean's horrified expression.

"The radio around here sucks." Dean reached out and twisted, shutting off the radio and allowing silence to swarm into the Impala. It filled every crevice, every corner, like vile locusts that just wouldn't leave them alone. Beatrice rested her head against the window, watching the storm beyond the glass. "Come on," Dean spoke into the syrupy silence, "jobs don't get much sweeter than this, you know? Dead vic with a gnawed-on neck, body drained of blood, and a witness who swears up and down that it was a vampire." He glanced at Beatrice in the wing mirror. She shrugged.

"No. I.. I agree. It's a Hell of a case." Sam sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

"A little more gusto, please."

"It's just.. The world's coming to an end. Things are a little complicated, you know?"

"Yeah, well, we can't save the world, not today anyway. But what we can do is chop off some vamps' heads. Come on, man, it's like the good old days, an honest-to-goodness monster hunt. It's about time the Winchesters got back to tackling a straightforward, black and white case."

Strolling through the pop up, (mostly inflatable), village, Beatrice inhaled deeply. The smell of a warm summer's day complemented by alcohol and sweet German pastries hit her and she smiled, sliding her hand into her boyfriend's. "I like all this touristy crap," she commented, though her voice was a little weary.

"Don't get too excited," Dean called behind her, jogging to catch up with the couple, "remember, we're here on business. Oh hey, we still gotta' see the new 'Raiders' movie."

"Seen it." Sam told him. Dean scowled.

"Without me?"

"You were in Hell."

"That's no excuse," Dean looked like he might try and continue berating his younger brother, but spotted a pretzel van a little way off, and his face lit up, "big pretzel!", and then he was gone.

"I love this," Beatrice sighed in content, "these few months have been awful. Waking up every day without either of you.. I'm just glad things are back how they were, before.." She trailed off, shaking her head. She looked up at Sam to see he was already smiling at her, endeared.

"We're okay," he assured her, as the glow returned to her own face, "the three of us. Nothing like that is going to happen again, not to any of us. Okay, Baby?"

"Mm, okay." Beatrice stood on her very tip toes and kissed him, just a little, but it was enough to offend Dean who had returned with armfuls of pretzels which he thrusted at the couple.

"Could you get a room?" He scowled. Beatrice laughed.

"God, you gotta' get laid." She teased him.

"Mmm, looks like that's our man." Sam nodded over to a uniformed man who was glancing uncomfortably around the little village. "Sheriff Dietrich." Sam greeted him as the trio approached.

"Are you the guys from the fed?"

"Agents Angus, McKinnon and Young." Beatrice said as they flashed their badges, and the officer looked convinced. "We called in advance about your uh, problem."

"Right. Um, I'll tell you what, why don't we talk about this away from the crowd, huh?"

"Marissa Wright, 26. Just up from Lockhard for the 'fest. Terrible. Just terrible. It's the last thing this town needs at peak tourist season." Dietrich sighed as he peeled back the sheet covering the body.

Beatrice shivered from the lack of central heating in the morgue. "Definitely the last thing Marissa Wright needed." She said sarcastically. She placed two gloved fingers on the woman's jaw and tilted her head to one side. On her neck were two purplish puncture marks. She exchanged a glance with Dean who looked equally as clueless.

"What the Hell?"

"Yeah, you got me. I mean this killer's some kind of grade-A wacko, right? I mean, some Satan worshipping, Anne Rice-reading, gothic, psycho vampire wannabe. "

"Sheriff, in your report, you mentioned a witness." Dean added.

"Yeah, I wished I didn't. That's Ed Brewer. Not exactly what you'd call reliable."

Beatrice strolled straight to the bar, slumping onto a stool as she ordered a shot of vodka. "I remember you." One of the waitresses approached them, speaking to Dean who couldn't help but smirk.

"And I remember you.." He glanced down at her name badge, "Jamie. I never forget a pretty... Everything."

"We're looking for Ed Brewer," Beatrice cut in.

"What do you want with Ed?"

"Well, we are uh, federal agents." Dean fished in his breast pocket and showed the waitress his badge. "Mr Brewer was witness to a serious crime. We just need to-"

"Wait a minute. You're a fed? Wow, you don't come on like a fed. Seriously?"

"I'm a maverick, ma'am. A rebel with a badge. One thing I don't play by; the rules."

Sam stifled a laugh. "Okay, Maverick. So where can we find Mr Brewer?"

The waitress pointed to a booth at the very back of the establishment. Beatrice drained her vodka, and followed Sam and Dean to the booth. "I told the cops everything I saw," Ed said as she sat down and slid her badge across the table, "no one believes me. Why should you be any different?"

"Believe me, Mr Brewer. We're different."

"I spoke the God's honest truth." He mumbled, taking a long drink of beer, "and now I'm the town joke."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "Marissa Wright's murder is no joke to us. And we want to hear everything, no matter how strange it may seem."

"We have a lot of experience with strange."

"It was just after midnight. I just left here, and like I do every night, I cut through the park on the way home. At first, I thought it was a couple kissing. But she was... Struggling too much. And this man, he was... Well, he was biting her neck."

"Can you describe her assailant?"

"Oh, he was a vampire."

"Okay. Right. And by that you mean..?"

"You know. A Vampire."

"Uh huh."

"So he looked like-"

"He looked like a vampire. You know, with the fangs and the slicked back hair and the fancy cape and the little medallion thingy on the ribbon."

"You mean like.. A Dracula?" Beatrice stared at him.

"Exactly like a Dracula. Right down to the accent."

"The accent?"

"Yep."

"What did he say?"

"You know, something like..." He raised his arms over his face as though demonstrating a cape of some kind, "stay away mortal! The night is mine! You... Do believe me, don't you?"

Beatrice visibly hesitated. "We'll.. Be in contact." She got up and left the boys to follow her to the bar.

"So, you got a beer back there for me?" Dean smirked. Jamie smiled.

"I don't know, Agent Young, you off duty?"

"And then some." He swiveled in his chair to face Sam and Beatrice. "So, what do you think? Goth, psycho, vampire wannabe. Right?"

"Definitely not our kind of case." Beatrice nodded.

"Agreed. But who cares? Room's paid for, and it's Oktoberfest. Come on, beer and bar wenches."

"Pretty sure women today don't react well to the whole, 'wench' thing, Dean." Sam sighed.

As if to prove a point, Dean turned in his chair to face Jamie. "Hey, bar wench, where's that beer?"

"Coming up, good sir!"

"Dude, Oktoberfest!"

Jamie approached the table and set Dean's beer down. She turned to Sam and Beatrice, "what can I get you?"

"Oh, they don't drink. They're Christian scientists. Don't even take aspirin. They're a real drag on stakeouts." Dean cut in with a shit-eating grin.

"You're funny." Jamie teased.

"I'm a lot more than that. I'd love to get a chance to show you the rest. What time you get off?"

"Like I said. 'Funny'."

"Man, it is time to right some wrongs." Dean groaned. Beatrice raised an eyebrow.

"Come again?"

"Look at me. I mean, I came back from the furnace without any of my old scars, right? No bullet wounds, knife cuts, none of the off-angled fingers from all the breaks. I mean, my hide is as smooth as a baby's bottom. Which leads me to conclude, sadly... That my virginity is intact."

Beatrice nearly choked on her drink. "Come again?"

"I have been re-hymenated."

"Please. Dean, maybe angels can pull you out of Hell, but no one could do that."

"Bea, I have been re-hymenated. And the dude will not abide."

Sam laughed and got to his feet. "Alright, dude. Well you go do what you got to do, and I'm gonna' go back to the room and get some sleep."

"I think I'm gonna join you," Beatrice said with a yawn. "Goodnight, Dean."

That night, Beatrice couldn't help but lie awake. Beside her she could hear Sam snoring, feel the side of his body pressing up against her, affirming that he was there. He was safe, he was_alive_. But something about him was different. There was something in his eyes. Something dark, something evil. Something that scared her. And Beatrice had every intention of finding out what.

Beatrice took a long sip of coffee, peering intently at the witness over the edge of the mug. "And then it just... Tore Rick into little pieces." The girl slammed her own coffee cup down as she finished her story. Beatrice sighed, rubbing her forehead as though exasperated.

"Ma'am, we understand how hard this is, but can you describe the creature?" She said. The girl nodded eagerly.

"Oh, it was a werewolf."

Sam looked dumbfounded. "A.. Werewolf?"

"Mhm."

"You're sure?"

"Oh, yeah. With the furry face, and the black nose, and the claws and… And the torn up pants and shirt. Like from the old movies."

"Well. Okay, so... Thank you for your time." Dean got up from the table, pushing his chair out behind him and causing it to screech uncomfortably across the tiled ground. Beatrice jogged to keep up with the brothers. "What the Hell?" Dean said grumpily.

"I know." Beatrice sighed. "This just gets weirder."

They reached the morgue and she pushed open the doors, following them to the storage room. "First a Dracula and now a full on movie time Wolf Man? What the hell is going on in this town?" Dean went on, sliding open one of the drawers while Sam unzipped the body bag. They recoiled immediately at the smell. "Damn!"

"Alright, whatever did this wasn't a psycho wannabe. Look at those bite marks. Right down to the bone, and deeper."

"Strong enough to tear a healthy man apart limb from limb. Could be a werewolf."

"Yeah," Beatrice cut in, "except, look. The heart's still there in one piece. They never leave the heart behind."

"Thus I reiterate. What the Hell is going on?"

Behind them as Dean spoke the door opened and the Sheriff strolled in. "Well, I was hoping you kids could tell me. I just got a rush job back from the lab on those fibers we found on the body." He fished a plastic baggie from his pocket, "Canine. Wolf hairs."

"I'm getting a headache."

"I don't know man," Dean said through a mouthful of burger, "looks like we've stumbled onto a midnight showing of Dracula meets Wolf Man. Is that it?"

"I don't know," Beatrice shrugged, "I mean, Wolf Man seems real enough. Makes Dracula seem a little less impossible. I guess."

"Yeah, but Werewolves don't grow wolf hair. That's just a myth."

"Yeah."

"So, what? We've got a vampire and a werewolf monster mashing this town?"

Jamie approached the table, swinging her hips as she set down another round for the three of them. "Looks like you guys are staying a while. I heard about Rick Deacon."

"Yeah." Dean said with the ghost of a smile, "this case just got weird enough for our department."

"Well, beers are on me. And just so you know, I get off at midnight tonight."

"Oh, it's not another, uh, girl's night out?"

"Doesn't have to be."

"Okay then. I'll see you tonight."

"Okay, then." The waitress smiled, and sauntered back to the table. Finally, Dean returned his attention to the case.

"Hey, you think this Dracula could turn into a bat? That would be cool."

Beatrice laughed. "Well, if you're spending the night with Jamie I think that leaves me and Sammy the motel room." She smirked, getting up. Dean groaned.

"I don't wanna think about stuff like that."

Sam threw an arm around Beatrice's waist. "Come on, Sweetheart. We'll catch you later, Dean." He led her across the road to their dingy motel. Dingy, sure. But it served as the perfect venue for their late night endeavors. As soon as they had the door unlocked she was on the bed, and his shirt was thrown half way across the room.

"God, I missed this," he mumbled against her skin, peppering kisses from her neck to her collarbone and drawing an embarrassingly lewd sound from her lips. It had been months since she'd felt his touch. She was desperate.

Her hands flew to his belt and she fumbled awkwardly with the buckle, and had his trousers halfway down his legs when his phone rang on the nightstand. "Ignore it," she urged him, but he smiled sheepishly.

"It could be important."

"It's _Dean_."

"My point exactly." He rolled off her and opened the phone, holding it to his ear. "What is it, Dean?" He was quiet for a moment, and then rolled his eyes, "we'll be right there." He hung up and shimmied his trousers back up. "There's been another one."

"Great." Beatrice swung her legs over the side of the bed and got to her feet, but as she headed towards the door she hesitated and glanced back at him over her shoulder. "To be continued?"

"Absolutely."

The museum was absolute chaos. Half the displays were taped off, and in the middle, a man was half covered carelessly with a sheet. In the middle of the room, was an ancient Egyptian sarcophagus. Or so Beatrice had thought, until Sam corrected her. "This sarcophagus isn't ancient," he held up a tag that read 'THE FX PROPHOUSE, PHILADELPHIA, PA'. "It's from a prop house in Philly."

"Well, it goes well with the bucket of dry ice he was keeping in it." Dean sighed.

"Is he making his own special effects?"

"Yeah, a mummy with a good sense of showmanship."

"This is stupid."

"Oh, damn it. Jamie. I'm late. You good here with the mummy and the... Crazy?" Dean looked at them hopefully. Beatrice nodded and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah."

"Yeah?" His expression shifted to grateful and he left in a hurry, leaving Beatrice and Sam alone among the carnage.

"If we get back to the motel we can do some research, maybe figure out what the hell this thing is." Sam suggested. Beatrice nodded mutely, and wasn't sure how obvious it was that she had other things on her mind.

When they walked through the door, Beatrice had Sam pinned to the wall with a flick of her hand, startling him, but a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. "Seriously?" He challenged her with a raise of his eyebrow. She nodded, moving towards him elegantly and tugging teasingly at the hem of his trousers. "You're persistent tonight."

"Well we said 'to be continued', did we not?"

"You know we have work to do."

"One night won't hurt. Dean doesn't have to know."

Sam chuckled. A deep, throaty sound that went straight to Beatrice's most sensitive area. "Come on, Sammy," she begged, walking her fingers up his tummy, "please?"

"You're bad," he said in reply.

"Maybe you should come down here and show me how bad I am." With a click of her fingers the spell wore off, and Sam lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist and carrying her across the room towards the bed. He threw her down atop the comforter, crawled on top of her and then-

_Bzzzzzzzzz_

Beatrice groaned loudly. "Are you kidding me?"

_Bzzzzzzzzz_

Sam sighed, reaching into his pocket and fishing out his phone. "It's Dean."

"Let it ring."

"I can't, Bea. I'm sorry." He held the phone to his ear. "Dean, I swear, this had better be important- You're serious? We're on our way."

"What's happened?"

"Jamie got attacked. She and Dean are at the bar now."

Beatrice sprung up from the bed. "Then what the Hell are we waiting for? Let's go!"

Beatrice pushed open the door to the bar, jogging over to where Dean was sat comforting Jamie. "Hey, you guys alright?" She fretted.

"Yeah, I think so," Dean assured her, "and I think I know what's going on."

He slid a folded towel onto the table as Beatrice and Sam sat opposite them. "Yeah?" Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Part of it at least." Dean watched as his brother unfolded the towel to reveal inside, a severed ear. Beatrice grimaced, shifting back in her seat slightly.

"Uh, the ear part?" She said, brows raised in question.

"Ripped it off of Dracula's head. Touch it. Feel familiar to you?"

"Oh, man."

"Skin of a shapeshifter. Just like St Louis and just like Milwaukee. Of course, this one's holding all buckets of crazy. Oh, and uh.." He reached into his pocket and retrieved a small faux-gold medallion, "this I pulled off during the fight. Look at the label on the ribbon."

"It's a costume rental."

"All three monsters. The Dracula, Wolf Man, and the mummy, all the same critter, which means we need to catch this freak before he 'Creature from the Black Lagoon's somebody."

"So, you guys are like.. Mulder and Scully or something. The X-Files are real?" Jamie cut in, her voice shaken.

"No. The X-Files is a TV show. This is real." Beatrice explained.

"Oh."

"Okay, so the stagecraft, the costuming.. It's like he's trying to re-enact his favourite monster movie moments, right down to the bloody murders," Sam said, staring at the ear.

"Wait a second, who the Hell is Mina?" Jamie said.

"Mina?"

"Yeah. That's what he called Jamie," Dean said, "and he called me Mr Harker."

"Jonathan Harker? They're characters from the movies and the novels. Mina, Dracula's intended bride, Harker the fiancé that stands in the way. Seems like he's fixating on you, like he sees you as his bride." Sam said gravely.

"Wow. Lucky me."

"But to fixate on you, my guess is that the shifter has to have seen you before or been around you."

"Jamie, has anybody strange come to town, somebody that has taken a specific notice of you?"

"I don't know, Dean. It's Oktoberfest, I'm a bartender. There's lots of people, I... Wait a second. There _is_ Ed."

"'Ed Brewer' Ed?"

"Yeah. He moved here about a month ago. Lucy swears he has a crush on me. He comes in almost every night. But you know, I don't think he's the type of guy-"

"Where does Ed live?" Beatrice interrupted.

"I don't know. But he works at the old movie theater. I think he's the projectionist there."

Beatrice and Sam got to their feet. "Take care of Mina?" Sam said to his brother.

"Yep."

"This place is creepy." Beatrice mumbled, pulling her jacket tighter around herself with one hand, while the other tightened its grip on her handgun. Inside the theater itself, organ music swelled over the top of the 'Phantom of the Opera', Beatrice could hear it even in the corridor. "So, you think Ed's our guy?"

"I don't know, I mean, maybe. He was our first witness." Sam sighed, pushing open the door to the theater. "You ready?"

"Mhm."

Beneath the screen, Ed was hunched over the organ, tapping dutifully at the keys. He didn't notice the presence of the couple until Sam had him pushed up against the organ with a gun to his head. "Whoa! You, FBI man, what did I-"

"Shut up, okay? You know what you did."

"What?"

"We know what you are!"

"I'm not anything! I just like to play the Casio!"

"Had time to grow the ear back, huh?" Beatrice snapped.

"_What_?"

Beatrice tugged hard on his ear, and Ed screamed. Loudly. "It's.. It's supposed to come off."

"No, it's not!"

Sam backed up, exchanging a panicked glance with Beatrice. "Oh, no."

Dropping their guns, the two turned and ran, sprinting and not stopping until they reached the now empty bar. The ground was littered with glass from a smashed bottle and on the table was a napkin, blotted with lipstick. Beatrice picked it up, examined it, and groaned loudly. "Lucy."

"Lucy?" Sam asked.

"The other bartender. Jamie's friend."

"Oh, shit." Sam reloaded his gun with silver while Beatrice rushed to the door. "How the Hell are we meant to find them?"

"Some whack job who thinks he's the real Dracula deal? Shouldn't be too hard."

"See, I told you it wouldn't be hard to find." Beatrice said triumphantly, looking up at the gaudy, Gothic mansion. "Now, we just have to figure out how to get in. We could try scaling a wall, or maybe break a window, or-"

"Uh, Bea?" Sam cut in. Beatrice looked over to him, annoyed, but then followed his gaze and saw the front door unlocked and wide open.

"Oh, right. Well that made things easier, I guess." She shrugged, slipping her gun from her back pocket and gingerly pushing open the door. It creaked loudly, and she froze, but there was no movement within the house so she stepped inside. _Piece of cake_, she thought. "Good place to start is the dungeon," she whispered.

"This way." Sam moved quietly towards a large set of stairs leading further down into the house and he forced open the heavy, wooden door. Inside, Dean was strapped to a table, dressed comically in a lederhosen. Beatrice stifled a laugh.

"Oh, thank God. Just in the nick of time. That guy was about to Frankenstein me."

"Hey there, Hansel," Sam snickered as he untied Dean.

"Shut up!"

"Let's go." Beatrice giggled.

"The bedroom." Dean said knowledgeably. Sam passed him his gun and he led the other two up two flights of stairs, where he motioned aggressively to a closed door. Sam went in first, creeping to where Jamie was passed out on the bed but Dracula ambushed him from behind and threw him against the wall.

"You will never be Van Helsing!" He cried before lunging at Dean, "and you, Harker, now you die!"

"How 'bout now you shut the Hell up?" Dean yelled back, his words dripping with sarcasm but the shifter threw him to the ground, raising his arms as though about to go in for the kill. Beatrice stepped forward, ready to telekinetically attack Dracula but time seemed to still. The monster froze in place, eyes bulging from his head and he collapsed back into a chair, clutching his heart as blood leaked from his chest. Behind him, Jamie clutched the gun tightly in both hands.

"It was beauty that killed the beast. No, Mina, do not weep. Perhaps this is how the movie should end."

"Well, thank you, G-Man. You have been a great service to your country."

"Oh, yes. I'm very, very patriotic."

Beatrice and Sam lingered awkwardly by the Impala as Dean and Jamie kissed, saying their goodbyes. "You know," she said quietly, leaning back against the hood and crossing her arms over her chest, "we never got that night alone."

"We will," he assured her. "You think I'd let you go that easily?"

Beatrice laughed. "I love you."

"Feels good to be back on the job, doesn't it?" Dean said as he approached the car.

"Yeah, it does," Beatrice agreed.

"The hero gets the girl, monster gets the gank. All in all, happy ending. With a happy ending, no less."

"Real classy, Dean."

"Hey, all I'm saying is the shifter man had a point, you know? It would be nice if life was movie simple. Although, if I was turning life into a movie, I wouldn't do this Abbott and Costello meet the monster crap."

"Yeah, no," Sam smiled, "I know what you'd pick."

"No, you don't."

"Yeah, I do."

"No. You don't. You don't!"

"Porky's II."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Lucky guess."

"Agent Tyler, Agent Perry, Agent Sawyer. Meet Frank O'Brien." The coroner peeled back a body bag. The three leaned in to get a closer look.

"He died of a heart attack, right?" Sam said. The coroner nodded.

"Three days ago."

"But O'Brien was 44 years old, and according to this, a marathon runner."

"Everybody drops dead sooner or later. It's why I got job security."

"Yeah, but Frank kicked it here," Dean challenged, "now, just yesterday, two perfectly healthy men bit it in Maumee. All heart attacks. You don't think that's strange?"

"Sounds like Maumee's problem to me. Why's the FBI give a damn anyway?"

Beatrice sighed. "We just want to see the results of Frank's autopsy."

"What autopsy?"

"The one you're gonna do."

The coroner watched her for a moment, eyebrows raised, but when her stare intensified he armed himself with a scalpel and sliced down his stomach. "First dead body?" He taunted her.

She rolled her eyes. "Far from it."

"Oh, good. Because these suckers can get pretty ripe. Hey, hand me those rib cutters, would you?" He pointed to a pair of cutters across the table and Dean passed them over, looking a little pale. Beatrice smirked at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Is that a wedding ring?" The older Winchester asked, "I didn't think Frank was married."

"Ain't my department."

"Any idea how he got these?" Sam picked up Frank's arm which was covered in scratches.

"You know what? When you drop dead, you actually tend to drop. Body probably got scraped up when it hit the ground. Huh!"

"What?"

"I.. I can't find any blockages in the major arteries." He reached deeply into the chest and broke off the heart. "Heart looks pretty damn healthy." He held out the organ to Dean, who grimaced, "hold that a second, would you?" He dug back into the body and something exploded, splashing both Sam and Beatrice with blood. "Oh, sorry. Spleen juice."

The only sound in the office was the dull, monotonous ticking of a wall clock. Beatrice toyed with a loose thread at the hem of her skirt while Seam and Dean peered awkwardly around the waiting room. A deputy behind the desk smiled at them.

An office door to the left of the room opened and a man came out, rubbing his hands together in an anxious fashion, "Hell's bells, Linus, have you seen my… Who are they?" The sheriff eyed the trio suspiciously and the three of them immediately got to their feet.

"Federal agents-" Deputy Linus started, but was cut off when a door behind them opened and a girl stumbled in. She was a little younger than Beatrice and was red faced and flustered.

"_So_ sorry I'm late!" She said breathlessly and nodded curtly to the three, "morning, agents. Sheriff."

Beatrice stared at her but before she could challenge the new arrival, the sheriff cut in. "And you kept them waiting?" He said to the Deputy.

"You… You said not to disturb."

The sheriff rolled his eyes. "Come on back, kids." The three, joined by the mystery girl, approached the office but the sheriff stopped them. "Shoes off." Beatrice and Dean exchanged a look but they all slipped off their shoes by the door. "Al Britton, nice to meet you." He shook everyone's hand in turn and motioned for them to sit back. Beatrice noticed there weren't enough seats and lingered by the door. Her eyes burned into the back of the girl's head.

"Thank you." Sam said warmly. Al took out a large bottle of alcohol hand gel and started slathering it between his fingers.

"Okay. So, what can I do for Uncle Sam?" He said over the sounds of sloshing liquid.

"Well, we're looking into the death of Frank O'Brien. We understand some of your men found his body." The mystery girl cut in before the others could.

"They did. Me and Frank, we were friends. Hell, we were gamecocks. That's our softball team's name. They're majestic animals. I knew Frank since high school. To be honest, I just this morning got up the strength to go see him. Frank was… He was a good man."

"Yeah. Big heart." Dean said and Beatrice couldn't stifle a snicker.

"Before he died, did you notice Frank acting strange? Maybe scared of something?" Sam said, shooting Dean and Beatrice a look.

"Oh hell, yeah. Real jumpy."

"You know what scared him?"

"No. Wouldn't answer his phone. Finally, I sent some of my boys over to check on him and well, you know the rest." The sheriff reached for the gel again and poured another load onto his hands. "So, why the Feds give a crap? You don't really think there's a case here?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance. "No, no. It's probably nothing. Just a heart attack."

"No way that was a heart attack." Dean concluded as the trio left the station. The girl lingered behind them.

"Definitely no way. Three victims, all with those same red scratches. All went from jittery to terrified to dead within 48 hours." Sam added.

"Something scared them to death?"

"Alright, so what can do that?"

"What can't? Ghosts, Vampires, Chupacabra? It could be a hundred things."

"Yeah. So we make a list and start crossing things off."

"Alright. Who's the last person to see Frank O'brien alive?"

"Uh, his neighbor. Mark Hutchins." The girl cut in, a casual smile on her face.

Dean stared at her and looked as though he might say something to her, but something caught his eye and he stopped. "Hang on, hang on."

"What?" Sam said.

"I don't like the looks of those teenagers down there. Let's walk this way."

"Wait just a damn second," Beatrice held up a hand to stop the brothers. "Is no one else wondering who the hell this girl is?" She demanded. "She clearly knows more than she should, and yet you're both just so damn casual about it."

"Right, of course." Sam laughed heartily. "Bea, this is Fred."

Beatrice stared at him, dumbfounded. "...Fred? You know each other?"

"We grew up together," Dean explained. "I guess you could call her family."

"So why have I never heard of her?"

"I've been out of town, for a while, actually." Fred interrupted. "I was considering giving hunting up, but Dean called and told me about this case and well, I couldn't resist." She spoke with a warm grin. Seeing Beatrice still looked clueless, she went on, "my Father was killed by Demons when I was eight years old. My Mother and I probably would have gone the same way if we weren't rescued by John. He took us in and spent a year training us to be hunters, and well, the rest is history. I was sorry to hear about John. He.. He was a good man."

"And we're sorry about your Mom," Sam said softly, "Vampires, was it?"

"I told her not to tackle that nest on her own." Fred laughed bitterly, "but you know Mom. Stubborn as always."

"Oh, where are my manors? Freddie, this is-" Dean started, but Fred cut him off.

"Beatrice, I know. I've heard a lot about you, actually."

"I'd say the same to you, but the boys failed to ever mention you existed." Beatrice shot them a look and Dean laughed sheepishly.

"I can't say it ever came up."

Fred laughed. Beatrice noted how she had a cheerful, airy laugh, and the younger girl clapped her hands together. "Alright, so, what's the plan?"

"Tyler and Perry. Just like Aerosmith." Mark, Frank's neighbor, smiled warmly, cradling a small snake in both hands and allowing it to inch up his arms.

"Yeah, small world," Beatrice nodded, "so, the last time you saw Frank O'Brien?"

Beside her, Dean spotted a large Lizard in a glass case and faced forward, swallowing, hard. On his other side, Fred stifled a giggle. "Monday. He was watching me from his window. I waved at him, but he just closed the curtains." Mark shrugged.

"Did you speak to him recently? Did he seem different? Uh, scared?"

"Oh, totally. He was freaking out."

"Do you know, uh, do you know what scared him?" Dean cut in. His voice wavered a little and Beatrice noted he looked a little paler than usual.

"Well, yeah. Witches."

Beatrice almost choked. "Witches?"

"Well, 'Wizard of Oz' was on TV the other night, right? And he said that green bitch was totally out to get him."

"Anything else scare him?"

"_Everything_else scared him. Al-Qaeda, ferrets, artificial sweetener. Those Pez dispensers with their dead little eyes. Lots of stuff."

"So, tell me. What was Frank like?" Sam asked curiously. Mark hesitated.

"I mean... He's dead, you know? I.. I don't want to hammer him, but, he got better."

"He got better?"

"Well, in high school, he was.. He was a dick."

"A dick?"

"Like, a bully. I mean, he probably taped half the town's butt cheeks together... Mine included."

"So he pissed a lot of people off. You think anyone would have wanted to get revenge?"

"Well.. I don't.. Frank had a heart attack. Right?"

"Just answer the question, sir."

"No, I don't think so. Like I said, he got better. And after what happened with his wife..."

"She died about twenty years ago. Frank was really broken up about it." While Mark talked, Dean focused on the snake around his neck, "don't be scared of Donny. He's a Sweetheart. It's Marie you got to look out for. She smells fear."

A large Albino snake slithered over the back of the couch and crawled onto Dean's lap, causing Fred and Beatrice to burst out laughing.

Fred flicked absentmindedly through an old copy of vogue while Dean rested in the front seat, furiously scratching his arm. "Any sign of Sam?" He called back to her. Fred peered out the window, squinting a little in the sun.

"They're coming." She told him, setting the magazine down and sitting up properly. "Hi." She greeted them with a smile.

"Hey. Any luck at the county clerk's office?" Sam asked, getting in shotgun while Beatrice climbed in beside Fred, who scoffed loudly at the question.

"I'm not sure I'm call it luck. Frank's wife, Jessie, was a manic-depressive. She went off her meds back in 88' and vanished. They found her two weeks later, three towns over. Strung up in her motel room. Suicide." She said bitterly.

"Any chance Frank helped her along to the other side?"

"No," Dean cut in, "Fran was working the swing shift when she disappeared. Airtight alibi. How was Frank's pad?" He twisted the keys in the ignition.

"Clean," Sam sighed, "searched it top to bottom. No EMF, no hex bags, no sulfur."

"So probably no ghosts, no witches, no demons. Three down and ninety seven to go."

"Yeah." Sam paused, peering intently at the speedometer. "Dude, you're going twenty."

"And?"

"That's the speed limit."

"What? Safety's a crime now?"

"Dude, where are you going? That was our hotel."

"Sam, I'm not gonna make a left hand turn into oncoming traffic. I'm not suicidal. ...Did I just say that? That was kind of weird."

In Fred's bag, her EMF meter started beeping, startling her. "What the hell?" She slipped it out of the bag and moved it towards Dean, and then back again. "Uhh.. Dean?"

"Am I haunted? _Am I haunted_?"

"Alright. Thanks Bobby." Sam hung up the phone with a sigh. In the Impala, Dean was laid in the front seat, paying air drums to Eye of the Tiger. Exchanging a glance with the two girls, the younger Winchester knocked on the roof of the car, scaring Dean.

"Dude. Look at this." He held out his arm to show deep red scratches.

Sam sighed. "I just talked to Bobby."

"And?"

"Um.. Well, you're not gonna' like it."

"What?"

Sam exchanged another glance with the girls and was quiet, so Beatrice cut in. "Dean, it's ghost sickness."

"_Ghost sickness?_"

"Yeah."

"God, no!"

"Yeah."

"...I don't even know what that is."

"Okay. Some cultures believe that certain spirits can infect the living with a disease, which is why they stopped displaying bodies in houses and started taking them off to funeral homes." Fred explained carefully.

"Okay. Get to the good stuff."

"Symptoms are you get anxious-"

"Yeah."

"Then scared, then really scared, then your heart gives out. Sound familiar?"

"Yeah. But.. We haven't seen a ghost in weeks."

"Well, I doubt you caught it from a ghost," Beatrice shrugged, "look, once a spirit infects that first person, Ghost sickness can spread like any sickness, through a cough, a handshake, whatever. It's like the flu. Now, Frank O'brien was the first to die, which means he was probably the first infected. Patient zero."

"Our very own outbreak money."

"Right. Get this, Frank was in Maumee the other weekend. Softball tournament. Which is where he must have infected the other two victims."

"Were they gamecocks?"

"Cornjerkers."

"So, ghosts infected Frank. He passed it on to the other guys and I got it from his corpse?"

"Right."

"So, now what? I have forty eight hours before I go insane and my heart stops?"

"More like twenty four." Sam said, helpfully.

"Super. Well, why me? Why not you or Bea? I mean, you got hit with the spleen juice."

"Yeah, um, you see Bobby and I have a theory about that too. Turns out all three victims shared a certain, uh, personality type. Frank was a bully. The other two victims, one was a vice principal, the other was a bouncer. Basically, they were all dicks."

"So you're saying I'm a dick?"

"No, no no. It's not just that. All three victims used fear as a weapon, and now this disease is just returning the favor."

"I don't scare people."

"Dean, all we do is scare people."

"Okay. Well then, you're a dick too. All three of you!"

"Apparently, we're not."

"Whatever. How do we stop it?"

"We gank the ghost that started all this," Fred shrugged, "we do that, the disease should clear up."

"You thinking Frank's wife?"

"Who knows why she killed herself, you know? Hey, what are you doing waiting out here, anyway?"

Dean hesitated, looking up at the hotel, "our room's on the fourth floor. It's.. It's high."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'll see if I can move us down to the first."

"Thanks."

"Sure."

The clock ticked infuriatingly. At the table, Dean thumbed through a dog eared, leather bound book while across the room, Fred was scribbling something down in a little blue notebook. "Dean?" Fred called to him. His head snapped up. "You okay?"

"Mhm," he muttered in reply but he didn't look convinced. He went back to reading, though, so Fred went back to writing. It was quiet for another five minutes or so, except for the sound of pen on paper, so she was hardly expecting the loud crash from across the hotel room. She yelped, jumping to her feet to see Dean looming over a broken wall clock that was now on the ground.

"So much for, 'I'm okay'." Fred said breathlessly. Dean smiled sheepishly and behind them, the door opened to reveal a confused Sam and Beatrice.

"Everything.. Alright?" Beatrice said awkwardly.

"Oh, yeah," Dean laughed, "just peachy. Find anything?"

"Yea. Jessie O'Brien's body was cremated, so I'm pretty sure sure she's not our ghost." Sam sighed, "hey, quit picking at that. How you feeling?"

"Awesome. It's nice to have my head on the chopping block again. I almost forgot what that feels like."

"Yeah."

"It's freaking delightful."

"We'll keep looking." Fred assured him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He coughed suddenly, just a little at first but then it erupted and Fred realized in horror that he was choking. "You okay? Hey! Dean!"

Dean stumbled to the bathroom, his hands gripping the sides of the sink as he gagged violently, but all he brought up was a little wood chip. "We've been completely ignoring the biggest clue we have," Beatrice said softly, coming up behind him, "you."

"I don't want to be a clue." He pouted.

"The abrasions, this, the disease. It's trying to tell us something."

"Tell us what, woodchips?"

"Exactly."

"I'm not going in there." Dean said stubbornly. Sam sighed.

"We need backup, and you're all we got. You're going in, Dean." He snapped.

Dean took a long drink of whiskey. "Let's do this. It's a little spooky, isn't it?" He laughed nervously. Beatrice held a gun out towards him, "oh, I'm not carrying that. It could go off. I'll man the flashlight."

Beatrice stared at him. "You.. You do that."

Behind them, Fred tried to scan for EMF, but it screeched whenever she held it within a meter of Dean. He grinned. "EMF's not gonna' work with me around, is it?"

"You don't say. Come on." Fred pushed open the door and went in, but froze, spotting something among the dust on the ground. "Wait.. 'To Frank. Love, Jessie'. Frank O'Brien's ring." She said, brushing the dirt off the little silver band.

"What the hell was Frank doing here?"

"No idea."

The four of them moved further into the mill until they reached a dingy locker room. Inside one of the lockers was shuffling, and Dean immediately hid behind Fred who rolled her eyes. Sam placed a tentative hand on the locker and counted down from three and when he opened it, you'd have thought from Dean's horrified screams that it was some kind of horrific monster, when in fact, it was only a little kitten.

"That was scary!" Dean announced, "wait.."

Sam seemed to have spotted the same ID card in the mud and inspected it carefully. "Luther Garland," he read aloud the same time Dean spotted a drawing on the table which he picked up and showed to the others.

"Hey this is uh, this is Frank's wife."

"Plot thickens." Fred muttered.

"Yeah, but into what?"

Dean tore the drawing from the sketchbook but outside, the machines whirred into action. Whirling around in panic, he spotted a man in the corner, the same time Beatrice did. "Hey!" She yelled, but when she turned again, Dean had sprinted outside.

Sam shot at the spirit twice, repelling it, and he followed the two girls out to the Impala where Dean was drinking heavily from his flask.

"Guess we got the right place."

"This is the Garland file." Deputy Linus slid the folder across the desk to Beatrice who picked it up and flicked through it. Behind her, Dean stared at a wall, swaying slowly which Linus noticed. "Is he.. Drunk?"

"No. According to this, Luther Garland's cause of death was physical trauma. What does that mean?"

"The guy died twenty years ago, before my time. Sorry."

"Then can we talk to the sheriff?"

"Um, he's out sick today."

"Well," Sam interjected, "if you see him, will you have him call us? We're staying at the Bluebird. Mind if we take this?"

"Know what?" Dean stumbled forward, jabbing Linus gently in the chest, "you're awesome."

"Thanks. Um, y-you too, I guess."

The institution was cold. The corridors were long and twisting, and Beatrice was tired. Dean's incessant whining wasn't helping. "This isn't gonna' work. Come on, these badges are fake. What if we get busted? We could go to jail!" He rambled. Sam shot him a glare, which silenced him only for a moment.

"Dean, shh! Calm down. Deep breath, okay? There. You feel better? Just.. Come on. Don't scratch!" Sam pushed open the door to the recreation room and the four of them approached an elderly man who ignored them until Sam spoke. "Mr Garland. Hi, uh, I'm Agent Tyler, this is Agent Perry, Agent Hamilton and Agent Kramer, FBI. We'd like to ask yo some questions about your brother Luther."

"Let me see some ID." The man challenged quietly.

"Certainly."

"Those are real, obviously. I mean, who would pretend to be an FBI agent, huh? That's just nutty." Dean laughed nervously. Fred elbowed him. Hard.

"What do you want to know?" Mr Garland asked, ignoring Dean. Beatrice pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down.

"Uh, well according to this, your brother Luther died of physical trauma... You don't agree?"

"No I don't."

"Well then, what would you call it?"

"Don't matter what an old man thinks."

"Mr Garland, we're just trying to get the truth on your brother. Please."

"Everybody was scared of Luther. They called him a monster. He was too big, too mean looking. Just too different. Didn't matter he'd never hurt no one. A lot of people failed Luther. I was one of them. I was a widower with three young uns'. And I told myself there was nothing I could do."

Beatrice nodded slowly, sliding the drawing of Jessie O'Brien across the table to him. "Mr Garland, do you recognize this woman?"

"It's Jessie O'Brien. Her man, Frank. Killed Luther."

"How do you know that?"

"Everybody _knows_. They just don't talk about it," he sighed, rubbing his forehead, "Jessie was a receptionist at the mill. She was always real nice to Luther, and he had a crush on her. But Frank didn't like it and when Jessie went missing, Frank was sure that Luther had done something to her. Turns out the old gal killed herself, but Frank didn't know that. They found Luther with a chain wrapped around his neck. He was dragged up and down the stretch outside that plant until he was past dead."

"And O'Brien was never arrested?" Fred said, horrified.

"I screamed to every cop in town. They didn't want to look into Frank. He was a pillar of the community. My brother was just the town freak."

"You must have hated Frank O'Brien." Beatrice said softly.

"I did for a long time. But life's too short for hate, Sweetheart. And Frank wasn't thinking straight. His wife had vanished, he was terrified. A damn shame he had to put Luther through the same, but.. That's fear. It spreads and spreads."

"Now we know what these are," Dean sighed, motioning to the marks on his arm, "and I'm guessing Luther swallowed some wood chips when he was being dragged down that road."

"Makes sense," Sam nodded, "you're experiencing his death in slow motion."

"Yeah, well not slow enough, huh? Say he burn some bones and get me healthy."

"Dean.." Fred said uneasily, "it won't be that easy."

"No, no. It'll be that easy. Why wouldn't it be that easy?"

"Luther was road-hauled. His body was ripped to pieces. He was probably scattered all over that road. There's no way we're gonna' find all the remains."

"You're kidding me."

"Look, we'll just have to figure something else out." Beatrice tried.

"You know what? Screw this! Come on. No, I mean, come on, what are we _doing_?"

"We're.. Hunting a ghost?" Fred offered helpfully.

"A ghost, exactly! Who does that?"

"Us."

"Us? Right. And that, that is exactly why our lives suck. I mean, come on, we hunt monsters! What the hell? I mean, normal people, they see a monster, and they run. But not us, no, no, no, we search out things that want to kill us. Yeah? Huh? Or eat us! You know who does that? Crazy people! We... Are insane! You know, and then there's the bad diner food and then the skeevy motel rooms and then the truck-stop waitress with the bizarre rash. I mean, who wants this life, Sam? Huh? Seriously? Do you actually like being stuck in a car with me eight hours a day, every single day? I don't think so! I mean, I drive too fast. And I listen to the same five albums over and over and over again, a-and I sing along. I'm annoying, I know that. And you... You're gassy! You eat half a burrito, and you get toxic! And Bea? She snores! And she drools! In my damn car! I mean, you know what?" He paused to throw Sam the keys to the Impala, "you can forget it."

"Whoa, Dean, where are you going?"

"Stay away from me, okay? Cause I am done with it. I'm done with the monsters, and... And the hellhounds and the ghost sickness, and the damn apocalypse! I'm out. I'm done. Quit." And with that, he stormed off.

Beatrice and Sam exchanged a glance. "Which would you rather deal with," he said, "Dean, or the ghost?"

"Oh, the ghost, absolutely." She sighed. "Rock paper scissors?"

Sam held out his hand, readying himself while Beatrice mirrored his actions. "Okay, three... Two... One! Yes!" Sam fist pumped triumphantly. "Have fun, Bea." He smirked, "Fred, come with me. We can call Bobby and dust this thing and Bea... You can babysit Dean."

Beatrice rolled her eyes. "Great."

The motel room was locked, and to Beatrice's dismay, she discovered Sam had the only other key. "Oh, come on," she said grumpily. She pounded on the door with her fist, "Dean? Dean! I know you're in there! Let me in!"

There was shuffling behind the door and after an agonizingly long moment, the door finally opened and Dean cautiously poked his head around. "I looked everywhere for you, Dean!" Beatrice said breathlessly, "how the hell did you get here?"

"Ran. I got less than four hours on the clock. I'm gonna' die, Bea."

"What? Dean, don't be ridiculous. You're not going to die." She sighed, stepping into the motel room. Dean looked at her, puzzled.

"Back?" He said softly, seemingly in response to something she hadn't even said. Beatrice stared at him.

"Dean? What are you talking about?"

"No! You get out of her, you evil son of a bitch!"

Dean backed away from her, terrified, and in her panic Beatrice flicked her wrist, flinging him against the wall to keep him still and to stop him hurting himself. "Dean, listen to me," she said desperately, "it's me. It isn't real, whatever you're seeing isn't real."

"B-Bea?" The glaze left his eyes and he looked at her, bewildered.

"Yeah, Dean." As the spell wore off she approached him, pulling him into a tight hug which he practically melted into. "You're going to be okay," she promised him but she heard the crack in her own voice, which he hoped her didn't notice. "I'm not going to let this get you, Dean. You're not going anywhere."

In her pocket, her phone rang and she staggered back from him, holding the phone to her ear. "Hi, Sammy." She said.

"Oh, it's Fred, actually. Sorry, I didn't have your number so Sam let me use his phone. So, uh, just ride out the trip, okay? Dean's.. Gonna be fine. We got a plan."

"What is it?"

"Uh.. Just a good plan, alright? Hang in there."

The line went dead. Beatrice stared at the phone, unconvinced, but slipped it back into her pocket anyway. "Well?" Dean said nervously.

"Well, they have a plan. See, I told you you'd be alright. Everything's coming up Winchester!" She tried to sound more confident than she felt. Dean noticed, and went to say something but his attention was stolen by a loud knock on the door.

"Is that real?" He said softly. Beatrice nodded.

"It's re-" She started, but was cut off when the door blew from its hinges. She cried out, backing up quickly. "Sheriff? What are you doing?"

The Sheriff staggered into the room, a crazed look in his eyes as he brandished a gun. His left arm was soaked in blood. "Why are you looking into Luther Garland's death?"

"Hey, hey, you're... You're sick. You're sick. You're sick, alright? Just.. Just like me, okay? You gotta relax." Dean said, desperately trying to calm the man down but the Sheriff hit him, almost knocking him off his feet.

"Frank O'Brien was my friend!" He yelled, "so he made a mistake. So I didn't bust him. So what? And you're gonna' bring me down over that?" He raised the gun, aiming at Dean but Beatrice swatted it away, levitating it far out of his reach.

Dean rushed at him but the Sheriff screamed, trying to scramble away. "Get away from me!"

"Al, you got to calm down!" Dean insisted.

"Step back!"

The Sheriff's hand flew to his chest and he wheezed, grasping at air he just couldn't reach and then like that, he was on the ground, and he wasn't moving. Dean's hand found Beatrice's and he held on, tightly. "I.. I don't want to die." He whimpered.

"You won't. They have a plan, remember?" Beatrice said back, but suddenly, looking at the Sheriff's corpse, she wasn't so convinced.

The pair of them shuffled back to the bed where they sat, clinging to one another and trying to bring comfort that neither of them could quite find. Dean jumped up suddenly, terror masking his face. "Huh, no! _No_! You... You're not real!"

Beatrice got to her feet, shaking his shoulders urgently, trying anything to draw him back into reality. "Dean! Dean, it's not real, it's okay! Dean? _Dean_!"

"Why me?" He pleaded, staring through Beatrice like she wasn't even there, "why'd I get infected?"

Dean's eyes bulged from his head and he fell back, struggling to breathe as he clawed at his chest. "_Dean_!" Beatrice screamed. She dropped to her knees, cradling him in her arms, tears streaming down her face as she realized there was nothing she could do. Time suddenly seemed to stop. As though the gravity had been sucked from the room, things lifted from their shelves, suspended in mid air as she cried over his body. "Wake up!" She sobbed, "it wasn't supposed to be like this!"

A phone somewhere within the room rang. And beneath Beatrice's hands, Dean's chest rose. And then it fell and slowly, his breathing returned to normal. Objects around them crashed to the ground but Beatrice didn't care.

Dean was alive.

"So guys road-hauled a ghost with a chain?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow as he leaned casually against the Impala.

"Iron chain etched with spell work. Courtesy of Bea, of course." Sam smiled.

"Hm, that's a new one."

"It's what he was most afraid of," Fred explained, "it was pretty brutal, though."

"On the upside, I'm still alive, so uh, go team!"

"Yeah. How're you feeling, by the way?"

"Fine."

"You sure, Dean?" Bobby cut in with a sarcastic smile, "because this line of work can get awful scary."

"I'm fine. You want to go hunting? I'll hunt. I'll kill anything."

"Aww, he's adorable. I got to get out of here. You drive safe." Bobby hugged each of them in turn, hugging Dean for just a few seconds longer.

"You too, Bobby. Hey, thanks." Sam smiled, and Bobby left, leaving a large dust trail in his wake. The younger Winchester sighed, turning to his brother. "So uh... So, what did you see? Near the end, I mean. Seriously."

Beatrice saw Dean hesitate. Unnoticed by Fred or Sam, she slipped her hand into his and he squeezed it, acknowledging her. Thanking her. "Howler Monkeys," he said eventually, "whole roomful of them. Those things creep the hell out of me."

Sam nodded, but looked unconvinced. "Right."

"No, just the usual stuff Sammy. Nothing I can't handle." Dean smiled weakly and turned to Fred, averting the attention from himself, "so, is this goodbye?"

Fred shook her head. "I was going to leave after this case, early retirement and all, but... This case kind of made me realize how much I missed it. I don't know what I'd do if I wasn't hunting, I mean.. I'd always come back to it."

"So what are you gonna' do? Ride into the sunset, kick some ass?"

"Only if it's with you." Fred said. "At this point I couldn't imagine hunting with anyone else. It's like old times."

Beatrice's face lit up.

"Welcome to the family."

"How many razor blades did they find?" Sam asked, scribbling things down in a little notebook while Fred, Beatrice and Dean searched the kitchen.

"Two on the floor, one in his stomach and one was stuck in his throat. He swallowed four of them. How is that even possible?" The woman let out a sob, leaning back against the table. She spotted Dean, suddenly, peering into the oven. "The candy was never in the oven." She said.

"We just have to be thorough, Mrs Wallace."

"Did the police find razors in the rest of the candy?" Fred asked.

"No, I mean.. I don't think so. I just.. I can't believe it. You hear urban legends about this stuff, but it actually happens?"

"More than you might imagine."

Dean emerged victorious from the stove with a little hex bag, which he subtly slipped to Beatrice who, in turn, slid it into her pocket. "Mrs Wallace," she said, "did Luke have any enemies?"

Mrs Wallace looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "Enemies?"

"Anyone who might have held a grudge against him?"

"What do you mean?"

"Co-workers? Neighbors?" Beatrice hesitated a little before she went on, "maybe a woman."

"Are you suggesting an _affair_?"

"Is it possible?"

"No! No, Luke would nev-"

"I'm very sorry," Fred cut in, "we just have to consider all possibilities."

"If someone wanted to kill my husband, don't you think they'd find a better way than a razor in a piece of candy he might eat?"

Beatrice tapped impatiently at the keys of her laptop. Her long nails kept getting caught under the keys and she huffed in frustration, closing the laptop without touching it and watching it slide across the table away from her. "Seriously?" Sam said as he looked up from his book, "you couldn't use your hands for that?"

She shrugged, turning his page for him with a lazy flick of her wrist. "Witchcraft has its perks." She smiled.

The door opened and Fred and Dean entered, both of them snacking rather happily on candy. Sam stared at him. "Really? After that guy choked down all those razor blades?" He said, unimpressed.

"It's Halloween, man." Dean said innocently through a mouthful of toffee.

"Yeah, for us every day is Halloween."

Dean chuckled, sitting on the arm of the chair and peering at Sam's research over his shoulder. "Don't be a downer. Anything interesting?"

"Well, we're on a witch hunt, that's for sure. But this isn't your typical hex bag."

"Hmm, no?"

Beatrice leaned over and picked up a little dried flower from the center of the bag. "Goldthread, a herd that's been extinct for two hundred years. And this," she picked up a silver coin, "is Celtic, and I don't mean some new age knock off. It looks like the real deal, like 600 years old real." As she was talking, Fred picked up a small charred bone and inspected it closely. "And um.. That is the charred metacarpal bone of a newborn baby."

"Ugh," she dropped the bone, wrinkling her nose, "gross."

"Relax man," Sam laughed, "it's like, at least a hundred years old."

"Oh, right. Like that makes it better? Witches man, they're so friggin' skeevy." Dean complained. Beatrice threw a cushion at his head.

"Yeah," Sam said, ignoring them both, "well it takes a pretty powerful one to put a bag like this together. More juice than we've ever dealt with, that's for sure. What about you? Find anything on the victim?"

"This Luke Wallace? He was so vanilla that he made vanilla seem spicy." Fred sighed, flopping back onto her bed and holding her head in her hands irritably. "I can't find any reason why somebody would want this guy dead."

Lights flashed around them. Uniformed men and a forensic team scoured the basement, taking pictures and notes and interviewing teenagers. Across the room, by a little barrel filled with water, a girl was being interviewed by an officer and when Sam made a move to join him, Dean stopped him.

"I got this one." He said quickly.

Sam scoffed. "Two words; jail. Bait."

"I would never-"

Sam rolled his eyes and moved to the sofa, hunting under the cushions for hex bags. Beatrice joined him, and though he smiled at her, she avoided his gaze. "Bea?" He said, straightening up. "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine."

"Don't lie to me."

Beatrice sighed. "Sometimes I worry.. The way you and Dean talk about Witches, with such hatred and scorn.. I worry that that's how you feel about me. Sometimes you say things and it's almost like you forget that I'm there. I worry enough that I'm evil, Sam, I don't need the two most important people in my life reminding me."

Beatrice saw guilt and self-contempt flood into Sam's eyes. "Oh, Bea.. I.. I'm so sorry. I never-"

"No. Leave it, please Sam. At least until the case is done. I.. I don't want your pity." She lifted a sofa cushion and emerged successful with a hex bag.

"I'm telling you, both these vics are squeaky clean. There is no reason for a wicked bitch payback." Dean said, his eyes never lifting from his computer screen.

"Maybe it's not about that." Beatrice suggested. Dean looked at her questioningly.

"Wow. Insightful."

"Maybe this witch isn't working the grudge, maybe they're working a spell. Check this out." She flicked to a marked page in her book and read aloud, "three blood sacrifices over three days, the last before midnight on the final day of the final harvest. Celtic Calendar, the final day of the final harvest is October 31st."

"Halloween."

"Exactly."

"What exactly are the uh, blood sacrifices for?"

"Uh, if I'm right, this witch is summoning a demon, and not just any demon. Samhain." At Beatrice's words, a tense silence filled the room. Except for Dean.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?"

Fred shot him a look. "Dean, Samhain is the damn origin of Halloween," she said tiredly, "the Celts believe that October 31st was the one night of the year when the veil was the thinnest between the living and the dead, and it was Samhain's night. I mean, masks were put on to hide from him, sweets left on doorsteps to appease him, faces carved into pumpkins to worship him. He was exorcised centuries ago."

"So even though Samhain took a trip downstairs, the tradition stuck?"

"Exactly. Only now instead of demons and blood orgies, Halloween is all about kids, candy and costumes."

"Okay, so some witch wants to raise Samhain and take back the night?" Dean asked with a raised eyebrow. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Dean, this is serious."

"I _am_serious."

"We're talking heavyweight witchcraft. This ritual can only be performed every six hundred years."

"And the six hundred year marker rolls around..?"

"Tomorrow night."

"Naturally. Well, it sure is a lot of death and destruction for one demon."

"That's because he likes company," Fred went on, "once he's raised, Samhain can do some raising of his own."

"Raising.. What, exactly?"

"Dark, evil rap and lots of it. I mean, they follow him round like the friggin' Pied Piper."

"So we're talking ghosts."

"Yeah."

"Zombies."

"Mm-hmm."

"Leprechauns?"

"Dean-"

"Those little dudes are scary. Small hands."

"Look, it just starts with ghosts and ghouls. This sucker keeps on going, by night's end we are talking every awful thing we have ever seen. Everything we fight, all in one place."

Dean nodded thoughtfully. "It's gonna' be a slaughterhouse."

Beatrice peered at the house. It was a fairly suburban neighborhood, and aside from a cop car driving away from the street, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She sighed, resting her elbow against the window, and her head on her fist. She opened her mouth to say something, but her phone rang.

"Hey," she yawned as she picked it up.

"How's it going?" Sam asked on the other end, so she put it on speakerphone so Dean could hear too.

"Awesome, yeah," she said sarcastically, "we talked with Mrs Razor Blade again. We've been sitting out in front of her house for hours and we've got a big steamy pile of nothing."

She heard quiet talking in the background as Fred said something to Sam and then he spoke again. "Look, Bea, someone planted those hex bags. Someone with access to both houses. There's gotta be some connection."

"Yeah, well, I hope we find them soon because I'm starting to cramp like a..." Beatrice trailed off, her eyes widening as she noticed Tracy, the girl from the party, saunter up to the front door of the Wallace house. "Son of a bitch."

"Quit whining."

"No, Sam. I mean, son of a bitch."

"So, our apple-bobbing cheerleader?" Sam asked Beatrice without looking up from his laptop when she and Dean entered the room.

"Tracy?"

"Mm hmm."

"The Wallace's babysitter." She sighed.

"Told me she never even heard of Luke Wallace." Dean added.

"Huh," Fred said, coming in from the bathroom, "interesting look for a centuries old witch."

"Yeah, well if you were a six hundred year old hag and you could pick any costume to come back in, wouldn't you go for a hot cheerleader?" Dean shrugged.

"Well, Tracy's not as wholesome as she looks." Sam said as he spun the laptop around, "did some digging. Apparently she got into a violent altercation with one of her teachers. Got suspended from school."

Fred pushed open the double swinging doors to the art room. The walls were decorated with masks, each as grotesque as the last. "Bring back memories?" She asked Dean casually, coming up behind him. He jumped.

"What do you mean?" There was a defensive tone to his voice that Fred didn't pick up on. Beatrice did.

"Being a teenager," Fred went on, oblivious, "all that angst." Dean exhaled deeply at her words, visibly relieved. Beatrice stared at him, her eyes narrowed a little. That time, he didn't notice. "What'd you think I meant?"

"Nothing." Dean's gaze was drawn across the room to a boy lowering a bong shaped piece into a large kiln. "Now that brings back memories."

"Dude, I need a bigger kiln!" The boy called across to them.

"You kids wanna talk to me?" Behind them, another male voice sounded. Beatrice turned to see the teacher they'd come to see. Sam smiled warmly, offering him a hand.

"Ah, Mr. Harding."

"Oh, please. Don."

"Okay, Don."

"Even my students call me Don."

"Yeah. We get it, Don," Dean mumbled under his breath. Beatrice elbowed him and he cleared his throat, fishing in his jacket for his badge, "I'm Agent Getty. This is Agent Lee and our two trainees. We just had a few questions about uh, Tracy Davis."

"Uh, yeah. Tracy. Bright kid, loads of talent. It's a shame she got suspended."

"Uh, you two had a uh, violent altercation."

"Yeah. She exploded. If Principal Murrow hadn't walked by when he did, Tracy would have clawed my eyes out."

"Why?"

"I uh, you know, I was only trying to rap with her about her work. It had gotten inappropriate and disturbing. She would cover page after page with these bizarre cryptic symbols. And then there were the drawings. Detailed images of killings, gory, primitive.. And she would depict herself in the middle of them, participating."

"Symbols?" Fred raised an eyebrow, "what kind of symbols? Anything like this?" She opened her palm to reveal the small Celtic coin.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think that might have been one of them."

"You know where Tracy is now?"

"I would imagine her apartment."

"Her _apartment_?"

"Yeah. She got out here about a year ago. Alone, as I understood it, as an emancipated teen. God only knows what her parents were like." He sighed.

Dean and Fred pulled up to the motel where Sam and Beatrice were waiting for them. "So?" Fred said, getting out of the passenger seat. Sam shrugged.

"Tracy was nowhere we could find. Any luck with her friends?"

"Nah, luck is not our style," Fred laughed, "her friends don't know where she is. It's like the bitch popped a broomstick."

The pair got out of the car and the four of them were stopped in their tracks by a little boy dressed as an Astronaut. "She could be making the third sacrifice any time." Sam mumbled. Beatrice rolled her eyes, elbowing him a little as the kid stared at them.

"Yes. Thank you, Sam."

"Trick or treat!" The astronaut held up a bucket of candy. Beatrice smiled, endeared, but Dean stared at him.

"This is a motel." He said.

"So?"

"So we don't have any candy."

"No, we have a ton in the uh.." Beatrice trailed off, motioning to the car.

"We did," Dean snapped, "but it's gone. Sorry, kid. We can't help you."

"I want candy." The boy repeated.

"Well, I think you've had enough."

The boy narrowed his eyes and as he stalked away, purposefully knocked into Dean, causing him to stumble and Fred to laugh. She pushed open the door to the motel room and immediately screamed, drawing her gun. Sam joined her, fingers stretching for his own firearm.

"_Who are you_?" Fred demanded.

"Fred! Freddie, wait!" Dean yelled, rushing past them, forming a barricade between them and the two men stood in their room. "It's Castiel! The Angel." He peered over the Angel's shoulder at the second man. "Him, I don't know."

"Hello, Sam. Winifred." Castiel said in his usual monotone.

"Oh my God," Sam stuttered, "er.. Uh.. I didn't mean to.. Sorry. It's an honor, really. I-I've heard a lot about you."

Sam thrust out his hand. Castiel stared at it, unsure, so behind them Beatrice made a little shaking gesture with her own hand. Finally understanding, the angel briefly shook Sam's hand. "And I you, Sam Winchester. The boy with the demon blood." Castiel said. Sam's face fell, and Beatrice's heart broke a little. "Glad to see you've ceased your extracurricular activities."

"Let's keep it this way." The second man said darkly.

"Yeah, okay, chuckles," Beatrice rolled her eyes and turned to Castiel, "who's your friend?"

"This the raising of Samhain. Have you stopped it?" Castiel ignored her question.

"Why?"

"Beatrice, have you located the witch?"

"Yes, we have located the witch."

"And is the witch dead?"

"No. But we know who it is."

"Apparently the witch knows who you are too." Cas fished a hex bag from his pocket and showed it to her, "this was inside the wall of your room. If we hadn't found it, surely one or all of you would be dead. I expected better from you, Beatrice. Do you know where the witch is now?"

Beatrice narrowed her eyes. "We're working on it."

"That's unfortunate."

"What do you care?" Dean cut in.

"The rising of Samhain is one of the 66 seals."

"So, this is your buddy Lucifer."

"Lucifer is no friend of ours." The second man spoke again.

"It's.. It's just a expression."

"Lucifer cannot rise," Castiel insisted urgently, "the breaking of the seal must be prevented at all costs."

"Okay, great. Well now that you're here, why don't you tell us where the witch is, we'll gank her, and everybody goes home." Fred sighed.

"We are not omniscient. This witch is very powerful. She's cloaked even our methods."

"Okay, well we already know who she is, so if we work together-" Sam attempted to reason but the second man interrupted a third time.

"Enough of this!"

"Okay, who are you and why should I care?" Dean said viciously.

"This is Uriel," Castiel sighed, "he's what you might call a.. Specialist."

"What kind of specialist? What are you gonna' do?"

"You, uh.. All of you. You need to leave this town immediately."

"Why?"

"Because we're about to destroy it."

"So, this is your plan?" Fred demanded, automatically reaching for her gun a second time until Beatrice placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're gonna' smite the whole friggin' town?"

"We're out of time," Castiel sighed, "this witch has to die. The seal must be saved."

"There are a thousand people here." Sam tried to reason with him.

"One thousand two hundred fourteen." Uriel cut in. Again. Beatrice rolled her eyes so hard they near enough receded into her skull.

"And you're willing to kill them all?"

"This isn't the first time I've purified a city."

"Look, I understand this is regrettable." Castiel said.

"_Regrettable_?"

"We have to hold the line. Too many seals have broken already."

"So you screw the pooch on some seals and this town has to pay the price?" Dean challenged him, near enough snarling at him.

"It's the lives of one thousand against the lives of six billion. There's a bigger picture here."

"Right, 'cause you're a bigger picture kind of guys."

"Lucifer _cannot rise_. He does and hell rises with him. Is that something you're willing to _risk_?"

"We'll stop this witch before she summons anyone," Sam said, "your seal won't be broken and no one has to die."

"You're wasting time with this mud monkeys." Uriel muttered to Castiel, but Beatrice heard. She stormed past Fred, jabbing her finger in Uriel's face.

"Listen here, you self righteous, arrogant prick-"

"You too are spawn of hell, born from hell fire and you think you can speak to us like that? You are the arrogant one. I should kill you where you stand!"

"You will not touch her." Castiel said in a low voice. Beatrice lowered her hand, but refused to back away. "I'm sorry. We have our orders."

"No! You can't do this. You're _angels_." Sam said desperately. "I mean, aren't you supposed to.. You're supposed to show mercy!"

"Says who?" Uriel said. His eyes never left Beatrice's face.

"We have no choice." Castiel cut in.

"Of course you have a choice," Fred said bitterly, "I mean, come on. What? You've never questioned a crap order, huh? What are you both, just a couple of hammers?"

"Look, even if you can't understand it, have faith. The plan is just."

Fred scoffed. "How can you even say that?"

"Because it comes from heaven. That makes it just."

"Oh it must be so nice, to be so sure of yourselves," Dean laughed.

"Tell me something, Dean, when your Father gave you an order, didn't you obey?" Castiel challenged him. Dean looked uneasily at the Angel for a moment before he spoke again.

"Well, sorry boys. Looks like the plans have changed."

"You think you can stop us?" Uriel replied, almost tauntingly.

"No." Dean stopped forward, gently moving Beatrice aside and getting in Uriel's face, "but if you're gonna' smite this whole town, then you're gonna' have to smite us with it. Because we are not leaving. See, you went to the trouble of busting me out of hell. I figure I'm worth something to the man upstairs. So you wanna waste me, go ahead. See how he digs that."

Uriel snarled, "I will drag you out of here myself."

"Yeah, but you'll have to kill me, then we're back to the same problem. I mean, come on, you're gonna wipe out a whole town for one little witch? Hell, we got one of those and I bet Bea could take her out on her own, without any help from us. Sounds to me like you're compensating for something." He turned to Castiel, "we can do this. We will find that witch and we will stop the summoning."

"Castiel! I will not let these people-" Uriel attempted but Cas cut him off.

"Enough!" He turned back to Dean, "I suggest you move quickly."

Beatrice stumbled out of the motel, followed by Sam, Dean and Fred. All of them looked uncomfortable but when Dean saw his car covered in eggs and looked furious, Beatrice couldn't help but laugh. "Astronaut!" He raged. The four of them bundled into the Impala. Sam stared at his boots, and Dean noticed. "What?"

"Nothing." Sam said immediately, then drew in a deep breath, reconsidering, "I thought they'd be different." His voice cracked.

"Who, the angels?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I tried to tell ya'."

"I just.. I mean, I thought they'd be righteous."

"Well, they _are_ righteous." Beatrice cut in knowingly from the back seat, "I mean, that's kinda' the problem. Of course there's nothing more dangerous than some a-hole who thinks he's on a holy mission."

"But I mean, this is God? And heaven? This is what I've been praying to?"

"Look, man," Dean sighed, "I know you're into the whole God thing, you know, Jesus on a tortilla and stuff like that. But just because there's a couple of bad apples doesn't mean the whole barrel's rotten. I mean, for all we know, God hates these jerks. Don't give up on this stuff is all I'm saying. Babe Ruth was a dick, but baseball's still a beautiful game." He noticed Sam staring at the contents of the hex bag, "well, are you gonna' figure out a way to find this witch or are you just gonna' sit there fingering your bone?"

"You know how much heat it would take to char a bone like this, Dean?" Sam said slowly, carefully. Fred realized before Dean did and her eyes widened.

"No." Dean said.

"A lot," Fred said quietly, "more than a fire or some kitchen oven."

"Okay, Betty Crocker, what does that mean?"

Sam and Fred exchanged a glance. "It means we make a stop."

Fred pushed open the door of the high school art room. Dean, though he followed her willingly, was complaining, again. She didn't know why she was so surprised. She wished Sam or Beatrice had come with her instead. "So Tracy used the kiln to char the bone. What's the big deal?" He said.

"Dean, that hex bag turned up in our room, not after we talked to Tracy-"

"After we talked to the teacher?"

Fred nodded. At Don's desk, we noticed the bottom drawer was locked tightly with a padlock. "Hey," she said softly. Dean saw too and reached for a hammer from the desk, hitting the lock until it cracked and fell to the floor. Fred slid open the drawer to see it was filled with little bones. "My God," she gasped, "these are all from children."

"And I'm guessing he's not saving them for the dog." Dean said darkly.

Fred straightened up. "We need to get back to Sam and Bea," she said quickly, voice almost a little panicked, "this... This is bad. This is very, very bad."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know." He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Maybe it wouldn't be so difficult if there weren't _damn angels_ on our back!" He shouted the last part to the ceiling as though Castiel in all his holiness was about to swoop down from the plaster and sing his apologies with a golden harp.

"What's the deal with them? I mean... Angels. With _wings_. And everything. I mean... Castiel had wings. That other guy? Not so much, couldn't see 'em."

"The wings?" Dean looked to her, raising an eyebrow, "you could see Cas' wings?"

"Well... Sure. Couldn't you?"

Dean stared at her for a moment. "No, Fred. I couldn't. No one can."

"Oh... Oh, right then." Fred nodded, visibly confused but she made an immediate decision not to think about it. She committed it to a small part of her memory, maybe a tea spoon's worth, "well, that's that." She smiled awkwardly, "now, let's go catch us a witch."

'Are you ready?' Sam mouthed. He had one hand resting on the door to the basement, the other wrapped securely around his gun. Beatrice nodded. He didn't wait for the others to reply and he pushed open the door and went in, closely followed by the remaining three.

Don had Tracy hung from the ceiling by her wrists. Her mouth was gagged and as he traced a knife down her face, she screamed horribly, the sound muffled by the cloth. Dean fired three times into Don's back and the he fell, his knees buckling beneath him. He crumpled into a pool of his own blood. Beatrice and Fred rushed to untie Tracy who staggered forward, breathless. "Thank you, he was gonna' kill me!" She cried, "ugh, that sick son of a bitch. I mean, did you see what he was doing? Did you hear him? How sloppy his incantation was?" A smirk grew on her face. "My brother.. Always was a little dim."

Though they reached for their guns, Tracy threw up her hand, near enough screeching an incantation and the four of them flew back against the wall, each of them writhing in pain. "Beatrice can't you do something?" Fred wailed.

Beatrice shook her head, clutching her stomach as though it would soothe the pain. It didn't. "She's blocked my powers, I can't do anything!"

"He was gonna' make me the final sacrifice. His idea. But now, that honor goes to him. Our master's return? The spellwork's a two man job, you understand. So for six hundred years I had to deal with that pompous son of a bitch. Planning, preparing... _Unbearable_." She knelt down by her brother's corpse and picked up the knife and chalice, "the whole time, I wanted to rip his face off."

She wiggled the knife in one of the bullet holes, collecting the stream of blood in the chalice, "and you get him with a gun. Uh, love that." She went on, "you know, back in the day, this was the one day you kept your children inside. Well tonight you'll all see what Halloween really is." She got to her feet and approached the alter, turning her back to the hunters.

Sam crawled forward to Don's body, smearing some of the blood on his face. Beatrice stared at him, dumbstruck. "What are you doing?"

"Just follow my lead." He splashed blood on her face, and Dean and Fred got the idea and did the same to their own faces.

Tracy finished the incantation and beneath them, the ground cracked and black smoke poured out and straight into Don's body. His eyes shot open and rose to his feet. Beatrice noted as the pain faded from her stomach that unlike regular demons, his eyes were white, with a single black pin prick in the middle.

Tracy smiled warmly, and he kissed her. "My love." She whispered.

"You've aged," he commented.

"This face... I can't fool you."

"Your beauty is beyond time." He rested his forehead on hers for a moment and she smiled again, like she was considering a second kiss but his hands found her throat, and he snapped her neck. He stared, disinterested as she hit the ground. "Whore."

He turned around and approached the four of them, peering for just a second before passing on and leaving, slamming the door behind him. "What the hell was that?" Beatrice demanded. Sam smiled sheepishly.

"Halloween lore. People used to wear masks to hide from him, so I gave it a shot."

"You gave it a _shot_?"

"Where the hell are we gonna' find this mook?" Dean asked, wiping the blood from his face with a rag as they approached the Impala.

"Where would you go to raise other dark forces of the night?" Fred asked.

"The cemetery."

"Yeah."

They got in and Dean started the car. "So, this demon's pretty powerful." Sam said casually, but Beatrice could hear the hesitation in his voice. She frowned, raising an eyebrow and leaning forward slightly in her seat.

"Yeah."

"Might take more than the usual weapons."

It took Beatrice a second to realize what he meant. "Sam, no. You're not using your psychic whatever. Don't even think about it! Ruby's knife is enough."

"Why?"

"Well, because the angel's said, for one." Dean interrupted.

"I thought you said they were a bunch of fanatics."

"Well, they happen to be right about this one."

"I don't know, Dean. It doesn't seem like they're right about much."

Well, then forget the angels," Fred said with a roll of her eyes, "you said yourself. These powers, it's like playing with fire."

"Please?" Dean tried, handing the knife to Sam. He hesitated, but took it.

Loud music and screams echoed throughout the crypt. Beatrice jogged down the stairs, a little way behind Sam and Dean and behind her, was Fred. On the other side of the gate the party goers were screaming, trying desperately to get out. "Help them!" Sam yelled. Dean shook his head.

"Dude, you're not going off alone!"

"Do it!"

Sam chased after Samhain before Dean or Beatrice could stop him. "Stand back! Stand back!" Fred yelled. She loaded her gun and shot at the lock until it broke away from the gate and the teenagers spilled out. "Go on, come on. Get out, move!"

A grave in the mausoleum burst open and from within, a Zombie crawled out, covered in gore. The one next to it exploded, and then a third. "Bring it on, stinky!"

Beatrice and Fred armed themselves with silver stakes and the three of them rushed into the crypt. Beatrice slashed out desperately but opposite her, a ghost materialized. "Zombie ghost orgy, huh? Well, that's it. I'm torching everybody."

She lifted her hands and a deadly cocktail of fire burst from her palms. Screams filled the room but when she lowered her room, it was silent. "Let's get Sam." She panted.

The trio raced around the corner to a second crypt where Sam was opposite Samhain, hand outstretched as he struggled to keep the demon at bay. Beatrice froze, watching in horror as Sam's face screwed in concentration and blood dribbled from his nose. He muttered under his breath and though Beatrice couldn't make it out, she realized it must have been an exorcism, because black smoke poured from the vessel's lips and he collapsed to the ground, dead.

Fred allowed herself a moment just to bask in the sun. She watched children play, chattering excitedly and eating fruit snacks. Beside her, she sensed movement and though she didn't look, she knew exactly who it was. "Let me guess," she said though there was no malice in her voice, "you're here for the 'I told you so'."

"No." Castiel replied. Fred finally looked at him.

"Well, good. Because I'm really not that interested."

"I'm not here to judge you, Winifred."

"Then why are you here, Castiel?"

The angel hesitated. It was the first bit of emotion she'd seen him show. "I've been in conversation with Beatrice. She, in turn, has been speaking with Dean. She told me you can see my wings." There was unease in Castiel's voice. Fred didn't understand why but she nodded anyway.

"Okay, so I can see your wings. What's the big deal?"

Castiel sighed. "Do you understand what this means, Winifred?" When she was quiet, he went on, "an angel's wings only become visible to... Certain people." He went on. He looked at her expectantly but she still looked clueless so he spoke again. "Winifred, the fact that you can see my wings when no one else means one thing. We're soulmates."

Fred stared at him like he'd gone mad. "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

She searched his face for any trace of humor but she saw none. "So we're... Soulmates?"

"Yes."

An overwhelming sense of confusion washed over Fred and she got to her feet. "Castiel-" She started, but when she looked back to the bench, he was gone.

"It just doesn't make any sense, Dean." Sam shrugged, taking a long drink of whiskey as Dean downed a line of shots. Beatrice hadn't touched her drink, and neither had Fred. "I mean, why would Uriel tell me you remembered hell if you didn't?"

"Maybe because he's a dick. Might have something to do with it." Dean said with a roll of his green eyes. Beatrice eyed him skeptically but he avoided her gaze carefully.

"Maybe. But he's still an angel." Sam went on, oblivious.

"Yeah, an angel who was ready to level an entire town. Look, I don't know what-"

Dean was cut off by a cheerful looking waiter bounding up to the table. "Radical!" He beamed, "what else can I get you guys?"

Fred stifled a laugh as she said, "uh, I think we're good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You wan to try a couple of fryer bombs? Or a chipotle chili changa?"

"No, no. We're... We're still good."

"Okay, awesome!" The waiter disappeared back in the kitchen and Dean turned back to Sam who still looked mildly unconvinced.

"Sam, honestly, I have no idea why Uriel told you what he did, okay?" Dean insisted.

"Right."

"What?"

"Okay, fine. Then look me in the eye and tell me you don't remember a thing from your time down under."

"I don't remember a thing from my time down under."

"Look, Dean, I just want to help."

"You know everything I do. Okay? That's all there is."

The waiter approached the table a second time. "Outstanding. Dessert time? Huh? Am I right?"

Beatrice stared at him. "Dude."

"Listen, you have got to try our ice cream extreme. It's extreme."

"Uh, no extremities, please. Just the-"

"Check? Alright, awesome."

"Thanks." As Beatrice spoke the waiter flashed a pair of finger guns, and then he left again. She giggled. "Alright, so where do we go from here?"

"I'm not sure," Sam told her, "uh, looks like it's been pretty quiet lately. No signs of demon activity, no omens or portents I can see."

"That's good news for once."

"Yeah. Just the typical smattering of crank UFO sightings and one possible vengeful spirit. Here, check this out. Uh, up in concrete, Washington, eyewitness reports of a ghost that's been haunting the showers of a women's health facility. The victim claims that the ghost threw her down a flight of stairs."

Dean almost choked on his beer. "Women, showers. We got to save these people."

"I'm not surprised the spirit world chose to make contact with me. I'm something of a... Natural sensitive." The woman opposite Sam and Beatrice nodded so solemnly that Beatrice almost felt bad for giggling. Sam nudged her under the table.

"I can sense that about you, Candace," he said, equally seriously, "that whole... Sensitive thing."

"So, what did you say you're calling your book?"

"Oh, well, um, Well... The working title is... 'Supernatural'. Yeah, we've been crossing the country, gathering stories like yours. But anyways, you were telling me about your encounter."

"Yes, well... Once I saw the apparition, that's when I started to run."

"And you said the ghost chased you?" Beatrice cut in.

"Not just that. It knew my name! It kept yelling, 'Mrs Armstrong, Mrs Armstrong!', and that's when I hit the stairs and fell."

"You fell? The ghost didn't push you?"

"Oh, I don't- I don't know. I mean, I think it did. Maybe."

"Did you feel like it meant to hurt you, like it was violent, or..."

"It was a _ghost_! I'm lucky to be alive! Anyway, I was at the bottom of the stairs, and that's when it got weird. It helped me up."

Beatrice stared at her. "Say again?"

"Yeah, it helped me up. And it kept saying, over and over, 'please don't tell my mom'."

"Yeah. That's weird."

Beatrice and Sam approached the fitness center stairwell where Fred and Dean were pouring over a newspaper. "Well, you pick up anything?" Sam asked. Dean shook his head.

"No EMF in the shower or anywhere else. This house is clean."

"Yeah, I'm not surprised," Beatrice shrugged, "I kind of got the feeling back there that crazy pushed Mrs Armstrong down the stairs."

"I gotta tell you," Dean said as he got to his feet, "I'm pretty disappointed."

"You wanted to save naked women."

"Damn right I wanted to save some naked women."

The four of them left the center. On the road across from them, three bullies chased after one little boy. "Run, Forrest, run!" Dean shouted after him. Fred rolled her dark eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Sorry, Dean. But I don't think anything's going on around here."

On the pier, however, a man angrily confronted a police officer. "How the hell was I supposed to get a look at it? It grabbed me from behind and threw me into a tree!"

Dean and Fred exchanged a glance. "_Something's_ going on."

"Yeah, okay, Gus," the officer tried to reason, "I understand you got shook up. Anyone would be. But don't you think it... Don't you think it had to be a bear?"

"I know a damn bear track when I see one! This thing didn't leave bear tracks. Its feet were huge!"

"Now, Gus-"

"It was Bigfoot, Hal. The Bigfoot!"

"Gus, you're not talking sense here."

"There's a Bigfoot out there, damn it, and he's a son of a bitch!"

"Excuse us," Sam interrupted, "FBI."

"What?"

"Yes, sir. We're here about the.. That."

"About Bigfoot?"

"That's right. Sir, can you tell me exactly where this happened?"

"Yes, I can."

The four of them strolled cautiously through the woods. "What the hell's going on in this town?" Dean said grumpily, "first, there's a ghost that's not real. And now a _Bigfoot_sighting?"

"Well, every hunter worth his salt knows Bigfoot's a hoax." Fred tried to reason but there was hesitation in her voice.

"Well maybe somebody's pumping LSD into the town water supply." He stopped suddenly, peering at a set of huge tracks, "okay. What do you suppose made that?"

"That uh... Is a big foot."

"Okay."

They followed the tracks to a liquor store that had its door unhinged and windows smashed. "So... What, Bigfoot breaks into a liquor store, jonesing for some hooch? Amaretto and Irish cream. He's a girl-drink drunk."

"Hey, check this out." Fred motioned to an empty rack of porn magazines."

"He took the whole porn rack?" Dean looked gobsmacked, "well, I'll say it again. What the hell is going on in this town?"

For a moment, everyone was quiet, and then... "I got nothing."

"It's got to be a joke, right?" Sam sounded desperate, "some big-ass mother in a gorilla suit?" He looked clueless. Fred shrugged helplessly.

"Or... It's a Bigfoot. You know, and he's some kind of an alcoholo-porno addict. Kind of like a deep woods Duchovny."

A little girl on a pink bike rode past towards the store, and from her basket a slightly dog eared, (and alarmingly damp), porn magazine fell out. Dean picked it up with his forefinger and thumb. "A little young for 'Busty Asian Beauties'." He commented under his breath. They watched the girl drop off the box by the door, and then ride in the opposite direction of the store.

"What's this, like a 'Harry and the Hendersons' deal?" Dean asked under his breath as he knocked twice on the door. Before anyone could answer, the door swung open and a little girl peered up at them.

"Hello?" She said, scrunching up her nose.

"Hello!" Sam said brightly, "um... Could we... You know what? Are your parents home?"

"Nope."

"No?"

"No, um... Have you seen a really, really furry-" Dean started but she cut him off.

"Is he in trouble?"

"No." Fred assured her, crouching down to her level, "no no no, not at all. We just, we wanted to make sure he was okay!"

"He's my teddy bear. I think he's sick."

"Wow. Uh, amazing, 'cause you know what? We are, uh... Teddy bear doctors."

"Really? Can you please take a look at him?"

"Sure! Sure, yeah."

The four of them followed her up to her room. "He's in my bedroom. He's pretty grumpy." She knocked loudly on the bedroom door, "Teddy? There's some nice doctors here to see you."

She opened the door to reveal a large black teddy bear sat on the bed, drunkenly watching the little TV. "Close the friggin' door!"

The girl sighed and closed the door. "See what I mean? All I ever wanted was a teddy which was big, real and talked. But now he's sad all the time! Not 'ouch', sad, but ouch-in-the-head sad. Says weird stuff, and smells like the bus."

"Um, little girl-"

"Audrey!"

"Audrey. How exactly did your teddy become real?" Dean asked cautiously.

"I wished for it."

Sam and Beatrice exchanged a glance. "You... Wished for it?"

"At the wishing well."

Dean crept over to the door and opened it a little, peeking round. "Look at this," the bear laughed bitterly, motioning to the news on the TV with his beer bottle, "you believe this crap?"

"Not really."

"It is a terrible world. Why am I here?"

"For tea parties!" Audrey cried.

"Tea parties? Is that all there _is_?"

Dean closed the door and the four backed into the hall. "Audrey, give us a second, okay?" Beatrice said, and turned to the other three, "okay, are we... Should we... Uh, are we gonna kill this teddy bear?"

"How?" Dean asked with a shake of his head, "do we shoot it? Burn it?"

"I don't know. Both?"

"How do we even know that's gonna' work? I don't want some giant, flaming, pissed off teddy on our hands."

"Yeah. Besides, I get the feeling that the bear isn't really the, you know, core problem here. Audrey, where are your parents?"

"My Mom wished they were in Bali," the child said casually, "so I think they're in Bali."

"Okay. Well, I'm really sorry to have to break this to you, but... Your bear is sick. Yeah, he's... He's got..." Beatrice trailed off, looking to the others for help.

"Lollipop disease." Fred cut in. "It's not uncommon for a bear his size, but see, it's really contagious."

"Yeah," Beatrice nodded, "so is there someone, maybe a grown up, that you can stay with while we treat him?"

"Mrs Hurley lives down the street." Audrey nodded sincerely.

"Perfect!"

"Good! Yeah, good. Uh, we'd like you to stay there for a few days, okay?"

"Okay."

"Oh, and, Audrey? Where is this wishing well?"

Fifteen minutes later, Beatrice found herself stood inside the same Chinese restaurant she and Sam had interviewed Candace in early that day. She watched as a little boy tossed a coin in the well, screwed up his face really hard, and then left. "Think it works?" She said, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"Got a better explanation for teddy bear back there?" Sam chuckled but it sounded hollow. It bothered Beatrice that she couldn't work out what was wrong with him.

"Well, there's one way to find out." Dean approached the well and fished in his pocket for a little coin.

"What are you gonna' wish for?" Fred asked, eyebrow raised in question.

"Shh! Not supposed to tell."

Behind them, the door opened and a young delivery boy stepped in. "Somebody order a foot long Italian with jalapeno?"

Dean stared at him. "That'd be me."

As he collected his sandwich, the others slid into a booth. Sam rested his hand on Beatrice's thing and she bit her lip, hoping the others didn't notice. "I think it works, dude," Dean said through a mouthful of sandwich, "that was pretty specific."

"The teddy bear, the sandwich.." Sam shook his head.

"I'm guessing this." Fred pointed to an article in the paper about a local man winning the lottery. "And that." She motioned to a couple at a nearby table with her head. The woman was clearly supermodel standard, while the man was.. Less so.

"Well, that definitely goes on the list," Dean muttered, "what are we supposed to do, huh? Stop people's wishes from coming true? I mean, it sounds like a kind of douche-y thing to do."

"Yeah, maybe," Beatrice sighed, "but come on, man. When has something like this ever come without a price tag? And usually a deadly one."

"I don't know. It's a damn good sandwich," Dean set the empty wrapper on the table, "alright, fine. We'll put a hold on the wishing till' we figure out what's going on."

A waiter approached the table, looking uncomfortable, "uh, I'm sorry. We don't allow people to eat outside food here."

"Well, I am certainly not gonna eat the inside food here. Health department. You, my friend, have a rat infestation. We're gonna' have to shut this place down under emergency hazard code 56C."

"_Rats_?"

While the waiter cleared out the restaurant, Fred and Beatrice drained the fountain. Dean swept over the coins, "typical fountain. Plaster Buddha. Nothing I can see." He observed with a little shrug.

"Yes, nothing," the waiter insisted, "we keep a clean place here."

"Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave the preliminary investigation, okay? Thank you." Sam said tiredly.

Dean watched him go. "Oh, come on, aren't you a little bit tempted?" He flipped a coin towards Sam who rolled his eyes and handed it back.

"No. Wouldn't be real. I wouldn't trust it."

"I don't know. That bear seemed pretty real."

"Yeah."

"Come on," Dean pressed, "if you could wish yourself back, you know, before it all started. Think about it. You'd be some big yuppie lawyer with a nice car and a white picket fence."

Sam smiled and slid an arm around Beatrice's waist, "not what I'd wish for."

"Seriously?"

"It's too late to go back to our old lives, Dean. I'm not that guy anymore."

"Alright, well what, then? Hmm? What would Sammy wish for?"

"Lilith's head on a plate. Bloody." Sam said almost immediately. Beatrice could hear the venom in his voice and it actually scared her a little. Fred looked uncomfortable too.

Dean stared at him quietly for a second, then said, "okay. What is that?"

"Some kind of old coin." Beatrice said, peering into the well, "I don't recognize the markings."

Dean reached for the coin, but found it wouldn't move. "Damn."

"Lift with your legs." Sam smirked, watching him.

"Is that little mother welded on there? Huh."

Beatrice rushed out for a second, then returned with a hammer and crowbar. "Hey, hey hey! What is this? You are gonna' break my fountain!" The waiter yelled.

"Sir, I don't want to slap you with a 44/16, but I will." Beatrice said firmly and the waiter slunk away, "alright, thanks."

"Let me see that. I got an idea." Dean took the hammer and swung it at the coin, but the hammer snapped. "Damn!"

"Coin's magical." Fred said knowingly.

"Boy, I'd say. I think it's hoodoo protecting the well. I don't think we can destroy this."

Sam traced the coin with a piece of paper and handed it to Dean, "alright, here. You got to look into this."

"Where are you going?"

"Something just occurred to me."

Fred stepped out of the restaurant, tucking a dark curl behind her ear. She watched Sam and Beatrice stroll in the direction of the fitness center as Dean came up behind her, resting his elbow on her shoulder and causing her to scowl at him. The little boy from earlier in the day ran past, hot on the heels of his three bullies. "You better run!" He yelled, but stopped and turned to face Dean, "you got a problem, mister?"

"What? No."

Dean's hand flew suddenly to his stomach and the color drained from his face. "Oh, no," he mumbled.

"Dean?" Fred peered at him, "you okay?"

"I... I'm fine." He swallowed hard, "we should get back to the motel. Do some research."

Fred nodded. She still looked slightly skeptical. Dean moved towards the Impala's driver seat but she placed a hand on his arm. "Maybe I should drive?" She suggested, "no offence, Dean, but you look like crap."

"Right, okay." He nodded and climbed into the back, laying down and resting his head on the cool leather. By the time Fred had driven them back, he was asleep.

"Dean?" She said softly, leaning over her seat and giving him a gentle shake, "Dean, Sweetheart. We're here."

He stirred slightly and lifted his head, squinting at her as his eyes readjusted to the light. He made a few incoherent noises, and then sleepily followed Fred back into the motel room. "So what's going on with you?" He yawned, selecting a book from the shelf.

Fred tensed up. "I don't know what you're talking about." She stuttered.

"Don't lie to me, Freddie." He pulled out a chair and sat down. She could see his hands shaking as he opened the book. She cursed under her breath, opening her laptop. Dean could always see right through her.

"After the case on Halloween, I saw Castiel." She said softly, "he knew I could see his wings, and... He said that makes me his soulmate."

Dean choked on his spit. "His _what_?"

"I know." Fred sighed, holding her head in her hands, "I don't know what to think! I mean, sure, he might be my mythical soulmate or whatever, but where was my choice? Why don't I get a _choice_?"

Dean opened his mouth to reply but seemed to change his mind and instead, sprinted to the bathroom where Fred heard him vomit. Loudly. She sighed, opening up her web browser. "Guess this is down to me."

When Beatrice pushed open the motel door, all she could hear was the delightful sound of Dean being sick. "Dean?" She called, noting how she couldn't see Fred either and exchanging a glance with Sam, "you alright?"

"The wishes turn bad, Bea!" He yelled from the bathroom, his voice strained, "the wishes turn very bad."

Beatrice smiled sympathetically, opening the bathroom door and peering in. Dean was kneeling in front of the toilet, his head near enough buried inside while Fred rubbed his back with one hand and typed on her laptop with the other. "The sandwich, huh?" Sam asked with a grin, looking over Beatrice's shoulder.

"The coin was Babylonian," Fred said without looking up from her screen, "it's cursed. I found some fragments of a legend. The uh, the serpent is Tiamat, which is the Babylonian god of primordial chaos. I guess their priests were working some serious black magic."

"They made the coin?" Sam asked with his eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, to sow the seeds of chaos. Whoever tosses a coin in the wishing well, makes a wish, it turns on the well. Then it starts granting wishes to all comers."

"But the wishes get twisted," Beatrice nodded, understanding, "you ask for a talking teddy..."

"You get a bipolar nut job."

"And Dean gets E. Coli."

"Mm. This thing has turned more than one town upside down over the centuries. It's even wiped a few off the map. I mean, one person gets their wish, it's trouble, but everybody gets there wish..."

"It's chaos."

"Mm-hmm."

"Any way to stop it?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded, lifting his head, "yeah, one way. We got to find the first wisher. Whoever dropped the coin in and made the first wish, they're the only ones who can pull it back out and reverse the wishes. So for now, we've got a couple of nutso dreams come true, but once the word gets out about the well, things are just gonna' get crazier and crazier."

Later that night, Dean, Beatrice and Fred slept, while Sam absentmindedly flicked through a newspaper, unable to sleep and so amusing himself. From across the room, small whimpering sounds distracted him and he looked up, frowning. Dean was writhing about his bed, tangling himself in his sheets as sweat dripped from his forehead. "Dean? Wake up!" He hissed.

He started, bolting upright in bed, "what? I'm up. What?"

"Sleep well?" He said sarcastically,

"Yeah." Dean said, though his words sounded forced. He took a long drink from the whisky bottle he'd kept on the floor beside his bed, "tan, rested and ready."

"Dean... Come on, you think I can't see it?"

"See what?"

"The nightmares, the drinking... I'm with you 24/7, I know something's going on."

"Sam, please-"

"Uriel wasn't lying, but you are. You remember Hell, don't you?"

"What do you want from me, huh? What?"

"The truth, Dean! I mean, I'm your brother. I... I just wish you'd talk to me." There was pleading in his voice. Dean laughed cynically and shook his head.

"Careful what you wish for."

"Cute."

"Come on. Can we stow the couples therapy, huh? We're on a job. I want to work. What do you got? Please?"

He crossed the room to Sam and sat beside him. "We got teddy bear, uh, lottery guy, invisible pervert guy. They all must have wished some time in the last two weeks. But who wished first, and how are we supposed to know who else wished for what, when?"

"Well, it helps when they announce it in the paper. Goes back a month."

"Wesley Mondale and Ms. Hope Lynn Casey have announced their surprise engagement." Sam read aloud.

"Ah, true love."

"Best lead we got."

Sam pressed the doorbell. The four of them waited for a moment, and then the model-material girl from the Chinese restaurant opened the door. "Oh, you must be the florists!" She gushed, "please, come in!"

"Yes, it's lovely to meet you, Ms. Casey." Beatrice smiled.

They followed her into the front room where a man was sat, presumably Wes. "Wes! You didn't tell me that you called the florists for the wedding." Hope giggled, playfully slapping her fiancee's arm.

"Huh?"

"You're the best! Mmm! Ah! I'm gonna go get my folders!"

"Uh, o-okay!"

He watched as Hope left the room and Dean invited himself to sit opposite him. "Wesley, how's it going?" He challenged him.

"It's... Wes. Aren't you the guys from the health department?"

"Yeah, and florists on the side." Sam smiled sarcastically.

"Plus FBI." Beatrice added, "and on Thursdays, we're teddy bear doctors."

"Huh?"

"Doesn't matter who we are," Fred narrowed her eyes as she spoke, "what matters is what we know. So, coin collector, huh Wes?"

"Oh. Yeah, my grandfather gave them to me."

"Did you happen to lose one of those coins lately? And by 'lose', I mean drop into a wishing well at Lucky Chin's and make a wish on it?"

"No, I-I don't what you're uh, talking about."

Fred tried to question him further but was cut off by Hope bounding back into the room, "okay, now, I have lots of ideas but you know, we don't have all the money in the world. Wes is between jobs right now. Means more time for me! You know, I'm thinking a Japanese-y ikebana kind of thing."

"Yes, I can see it." Dean agreed.

"Yeah," Sam nodded, "so Hope, uh, tell us how you two lovebirds met."

"Oh, best day of my life!"

"I bet."

"Yeah! It's the funniest thing. We both grew up here, but I never really knew who he was. Not by name, anyway. Until one day last month, it was like I just... I just saw him for the first time. He was just glowing. Oh, just glowing."

"Uh, baby?" Wes cut in, "can you... Can you get us some coffee?"

"Yes! Yeah." Hope straddled his lap, kissing him repeatedly as he struggled to speak in between kisses.

"Oh. Okay. Okay. Mm-hmm. Okay. Oh, okay. Oh. Mm-mmm. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay." She finally released him and blew one final kiss before disappearing into the kitchen. The remaining four immediately turned back to Wes.

"Wes, we know. So tell us the truth."

Wes hesitated before he spoke. "My... My grandfather found the coin in north Africa, you know, World War two. And he brought it back. He said it was a real wish granting coin but that nobody should ever use it. It was all I had and when he died, I thought, 'well you know what? Why not give the coin a shot?'"

"Yeah? Well, now you're gonna wish it back." Beatrice snapped.

"Oh. Oh, haha, no, I'm not."

"If you don't stop it, something bad's gonna happen."

"Something bad," Sam affirmed, "like us."

"We _really_ wish you'd come with us."

The Impala cruised down the small street. Sam and Dean rode in the front, while Wes sat in the back, squished in between Fred and Beatrice who eyed him like hawks. "I don't get it," Wes said uneasily, "so, my wish came true. Why does that have to be a bad thing?"

"Because the wishes go south, Wes." Sam explained again, exasperated, "your town is going insane."

"Come on." Dean went on, "you're gonna sit there and tell me that your relationship with Hope is functional, that it's what you wished for?"

"I wished she would love me more than anything."

"Yeah, and uh, how is that going?" Beatrice said with a roll of her eyes, "that seem healthy to you?"

"Well it's a hell of a lot better than when she didn't know I was alive."

"We're not supposed to get what you want, man," Dean sighed, "not like this. Nobody is. That's what the coin does. It takes your heart's desires and it twists it back on you. You hear of the whole, uh, 'be careful what you wish for'?"

"Did we just hit something?" Fred interrupted.

"I didn't see anything."

"Careful what you wish for," Wes scoffed, mocking them, "you know who says that? Good looking jerks like you guys, the ones who've got it to easy because you happen to be handsome."

"Easy?" All four said at the same time.

"Yeah! Women look at you, right? They notice you."

"Believe us," Sam said darkly, "we do not have it easy."

"We are miserable. We never get what we want. In fact, we have to fight tooth and nail just to keep whatever it is we got." Beatrice agreed, glancing at the back of Sam's head. He didn't notice. He didn't seem to notice her much those days.

"But you know what? Maybe that's the whole point, Wes," Sam said instead.

"Yeah, people are people 'cause they're miserable bastards, because they never get what they really want." Dean nodded.

"Right, yeah. You get what you want, you get crazy."

"Take a look at Michael Jackson, hmm? Or Hasselhoff."

"You know what? Hope loves me now. Completely! And it's awesome. Besides, look around. Where's all this uh, insanity, you guys were talking about?" Wes said grumpily.

Outside the Impala in an empty parking lot, the little boy from earlier had a large four-wheel-drive car balanced on both hands, high above his head. Dean slammed on the brakes. "Well, that should cover it. "The boy tipped over the car and Dean got out, followed by Fred. "Fine, We'll handle Todd. You get Wes to Lucky Chin's. Go!"

Sam scooched into the driver's seat and sped towards the restaurant. "That... That kids turned that car like... Like it was nothing." Wes stuttered as Sam pulled over and he staggered out of the car. Beatrice shrugged casually as she got out.

"You should have seen the teddy bear. Now, come on. Fun's over. Time to pull the coin, Wes." She said with a bitter smile.

"Well, why can't we just get what we want?"

"Because that's life, Wes."

Without warning, lightening struck, and as the flash faded Beatrice saw Sam on the ground and he wasn't moving. Her heart sank. "Sam? Sammy!"

Horrible flashbacks hit her and she dropped to her knees beside him, shaking him desperately as she willed him to open his eyes. "Do not do this to me Sammy, not again. Come on, wake up. Baby. Wake up! WES!"

She turned and screamed to the man but he'd already disappeared inside, leaving her alone on the street with Sam. Tears welled in her eyes but she furiously wiped them away with her sleeve. Instead, she pressed her ear to his chest. Nothing. "Sam?" Her voice came out in a tiny whimper, and she felt so helpless.

Suddenly in her arms, he stirred. His eyes flickered open and he stared up at her, dazed. "Bea?"

"Christ, Sammy," she said breathlessly as relief flooded through her and she pulled him into her arms, burying her face in his shoulder, "thought I'd lost you for a second there."

"Can't get rid of me that easily." He said into her hair and she smiled, pulling back and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips which he eagerly returned. Wes emerged from the restaurant, dejected, and pressed the coin into Beatrice's hand.

Dean leaned against the barrier of the pier as he flicked through the local newspaper. Beatrice read aloud over his shoulder. "Winning lottery ticket a fake." She smiled. Audrey walked past, followed by her sunburned parents. In her arms, she clutched a regular sized teddy with a hole in his head and a sticking plaster dangling from it.

"Well uh, coin's melted down. It shouldn't cause anymore problems." Sam told them.

"Audrey's parents are back from Bali. Looks like all the wishes are gone. And so are we," Dean turned to go, but stopped, "hang on a second."

"What?" Fred said.

"You were right. All of you."

"About what?" Sam asked cautiously.

"I shouldn't have lied to you. I do remember everything that happened to me in the pit. Everything." There was pain in his voice that chilled Fred to her bones.

"So tell us about it." Sam urged him.

"No. I won't lie anymore. But I'm not gonna' talk about it."

"Dean, look, you can't just shoulder this thing alone. You got to let us help."

"How?" Dean snapped, "do you really think that a little heart to heart, some sharing and caring, is gonna change _anything_? Hmm? Somehow heal me? I'm not talking about a bad day here."

"I know that-"

"The things I saw... There aren't words. There is no forgetting. There's no making it better. Because it is right here, forever. You wouldn't understand. And I could never make you understand. So I am sorry."

A man slid a comic book off the shelf. Fred was half tempted to join him in his browsing but seeing the other three in their serious uniforms, she knew she didn't have a choice. The man behind the counter looked up as they approached and slipped out their badges. "Uh... Can I help you?"

"Sure hope so. Just need to ask you a few questions." Dean said casually.

"Notice anything strange in the building?" Sam continued, "last couple of days?"

"Like what?"

"Well, some other tenants reported flickering lights."

"Uh, I don't think so. Why?"

"What about noises? Any skittering in the walls? Kind of like rats?"

"And the FBI is investigating a rodent problem?" The cashier stared at them skeptically. Beatrice rolled her eyes.

"What about cold spots?" She said, "feel any sudden drops in temperature?"

The cashier's face broke out in a smile. "I knew it! You guys are LARPing, aren't you?"

"Excuse me?" Dean stared at him, clueless.

"You're fans."

"Fans of what? What is LARPing?" Beatrice exchanged a glance with Dean who could only bring himself to shrug. The cashier rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Like you don't know. Live action role play. And pretty hardcore, too."

"I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You're asking questions like the buildings haunted. Like those guys from the books. What are they called? Uh... 'Supernatural'! Two guys, one girl, use fake IDs with rock aliases. Hunt down ghosts, demons, vampires... What are their names? Uh... Steve and Dirk? Bonnie?"

Sam stared at him. "Sam, Dean, and Beatrice?"

"That's it!"

"You're saying this is a book?" Fred said, astounded.

"Books, it was a series. Didn't sell a lot of copies, though. Kind of had more of an underground cult following." He crossed over to a table labelled 'bargain bin', "I liked some of em'. Especially that Bea. Damn, if she was real.. Man, love Chinese girls."

Beatrice narrowed her eyes at him. "She's Korean. And her name is Beatrice."

The clerk cleared his throat loudly, "let's see, um... Ah, yeah." He handed Dean a book, "that's the first one, I think."

"Supernatural, by Carver Edlund," Dean read aloud, before flipping the book over and reading the blurb, "alone a lonely California highway, a mysterious woman in white lures me to their deaths."

"Give me that," Sam snatched the book, "we're gonna' need all the copies of Supernatural you've got."

Beatrice flicked through a dog eared, dusty copy of Supernatural. "This is insane," she mumbled, "how's this guy know all this stuff?"

"You got me." Sam mumbled back, staring at his laptop.

"Everything is in here. From the racist truck, to us having sex." Beatrice peered closer at the page, "we're full frontal up in here, Sammy. How come we haven't heard of them before?"

"They're pretty obscure," Fred shrugged, "I mean, almost zero circulation. Uh, started in 05'. The publisher put out a couple dozen before going bankrupt. Ah uh, the last one, 'no rest for the wicked', ends with Dean going to hell. Which explains why I'm not in any of them, I guess."

"I reiterate. Freaking insane." Beatrice sighed and turned to her laptop. "Check it out. There's actually fans. There's not many of them, but still. Did you read this?"

"Yeah."

"Although for fans, they sure do complain a lot. Listen to this, Simpatico says 'the demon story line is trite, cliched and overall craptastic. Yeah, well screw you, Simpatico. We lived it." She grumbled.

"Yeah, well keep reading. It gets better."

"There are 'Sam girls' and 'Dean girls'. And... What's a slash fic?"

"As in, Sam slash Dean. Together."

That caught Dean's attention. "Like... Together, together?"

"Yeah."

"They do know we're brothers, right?"

"Doesn't seem to matter. And a lot of them hate Bea for it too. They seem to think she stole me from you."

"Oh, come on. That... That's just sick. We got to find this Carver Edlund."

"Yeah, that might not be so easy," Fred told them.

"Why not?"

"No tax records, no known address.. Looks like Carver Edlund is a pen name."

"Somebody's gotta' know who he is."

"So, you published the Supernatural books?" Sam asked. The publisher nodded eagerly. She was a young, attractive girl who seemed eager in their interest towards the books.

"Yep. Yeah. Gosh, those books. You know, they never got the attention they deserved. All anybody wants to read anymore is that romance crap. You know, 'Doctor Sexy MD'? Please."

"Right. Well, we're hoping that our article can... Shine a light on an underappreciated series."

"Yeah, yeah, because you know if we got a little bit of good press then maybe we could start publishing again."

"No no, God, no. I mean, why? Why would you want to do that? You know, it's such a complete series, what with Dean going to hell and all." Dean said quickly.

The publisher's eyes welled with tears. "Oh my god. That was one of my favourite ones, because Dean was so... Strong! And sad, and brave! And Sam! I mean, the best parts are when they'd cry. You know, like in 'Devil's Trap' when Sam thought Beatrice was dead, the first woman since Jessica he really loved. And in 'Home', when Dean had to cal John and ask him for help. Gosh, if only real men were so open and in touch with their feelings."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Real men?"

"I mean, no offense. How often do you cry like that, hmm?"

"Well, right now, I'm crying on the inside."

"Is that supposed to be funny?"

"Lady, this whole thing is funny."

"How do I know you four are legit, hmm?"

"Oh, trust me, we're legit." Beatrice muttered.

"Well, I don't want any smart ass article making fun of my boys."

"We're actually big fans."

"You've read the books?"

"Cover to cover." Dean affirmed.

"What's the year and model of the car?"

"It's a 1967 Chevy Impala." Dean said with a smirk.

"What's May second?"

"That's my- Sam's birthday." Sam corrected himself.

"January 24th is Dean's." The older Winchester cut in.

"Beatrice's favourite song?"

"It's a tie. Between System of a Down's 'Chop Suey' and Marilyn Manson's 'The Beautiful People'."

"Okay. Okay. What do you want to know?" The publisher sighed, defeated.

"What's Carver Edlund's real name?"

"Oh, no. I- No. Sorry, I can't do that."

"We just want to talk to him. You know, get the 'Supernatural' story in his own words." Sam pressed her.

"He's very private. It's like Salinger."

"Please, like I said, we are, um..." Sam trailed off, unbuttoning his shirt a little to reveal his Demon protection tattoo. He glanced at Beatrice, Dean and Fred who after a lot of eye rolling, revealed theirs too, "...big, big fans."

"Awesome. You know what?" The publisher got to her feet and hiked up her skirt, revealing a tattoo on her upper thigh. "I got one, too."

"Whoa. You _are_ a fan." Dean said, eyes wide as he stared at her toned legs.

"Okay." She scribbled something on a scrap of paper which she pressed into Dean's hand, "his name's Chuck Shurley. And he's a genius, so don't piss him off."

Fred got out of the Impala. Her dark curls framed her face as the wind swept them up in its embrace and she sighed, admitting defeat and tying her hair back. "You sure this is the right place?" She asked Dean.

"This is the address the publisher gave me." He insisted.

"Let's just get this over with." He sighed, shaking his head in what appeared to be disbelief and he slipped his hand in Beatrice's. She smiled, squeezing his hand which he promptly returned. They approached the door, and he knocked twice and then pressed the doorbell.

There was the sound of fumbling behind the door and then a man dressed in boxers, an undershirt and a dressing gown answered. "You Chuck Shurley?" Dean said.

"The Chuck Shurley who wrote the Supernatural books?" Beatrice added.

"Maybe. Why?"

"I'm Dean, this is Sam and Beatrice. And that's Fred. The Dean, Sam, and Beatrice you've been writing about."

The door slammed in their faces so Dean rang the doorbell again. Chuck peered round the door at them. "Look, uh... I appreciate your enthusiasm. Really, I do. It's uh, it's always nice to hear from the fans. But, uh, for your own good, I strongly suggest you get a life."

"See, here's the thing. We have a life. You've been using it to write your books." Beatrice shouldered past Chuck as she spoke, entering the house and forcing the terrified author to back up.

"Now, wait a minute," he stuttered, "now, this isn't funny."

"Damn straight it's not funny! Look, we just want to know how you're doing it."

"I'm not doing anything!"

"Are you a hunter?"

"What? No! I'm a _writer_."

"Then how do you know so much about demons? And Tulpas, and changelings?" She snapped. She advanced on Chuck and he fell back onto the couch.

"Is this some kind of 'Misery' thing? Ah, it is, isn't it? It's a 'Misery' thing!"

"No, it's not a 'Misery' thing. Believe me, we are _not_ fans."

"Well then, what do you want?"

"I'm Beatrice. This is Sam and Dean."

"Sam, Dean and Beatrice are fictional characters! I made them up! They're not real!"

Dean tugged Chuck to his feet and led him out to the Impala. He opened the trunk to reveal the arsenal they constantly carried about with them. "Are those real guns?" Chuck stumbled over his words. Dean nodded.

"Yup. This is real rock salt. Those are real fake IDs."

"Well, I got to hand it to you guys. You really are my number one fans. That's- That's awesome! So, I-I think I've got some posters in the house."

"Chuck, stop."

"Please, wait. Please don't hurt me."

"How much do you know?" Sam challenged him, "do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking the seals?"

"Wait a minute. How do you know about that?"

"The question is how do you?"

"Because I wrote it!"

"You kept writing?"

"Yeah. Even after the publisher went bankrupt, but those books never came out. Okay, wait a minute. This is some kind of joke, right? Did.. Did Phil put you up to this?"

"Well, nice to meet you," Dean said sarcastically, "I'm Dean Winchester, and this is my brother Sam and his girlfriend Beatrice Wells."

Chuck was quiet. His skin paled. "The last names were never in the books. I never told anybody about that. I never even wrote that down. Wait... What did you say your name was again?" He said to Fred.

"Fred Beauregard." She and Chuck said simultaneously. Chuck looked like he might be about to pass out. "I... I think you'd all better come in."

Chuck's hands trembled as he poured himself a glass of whiskey and gulped it down. He slammed the glass on the counter and he turned and saw them all still sat there, he groaned, "oh, you're still there."

"Yup." Dean said casually.

"You're not a hallucination."

"Nope."

"Well, there's only one explanation. Obviously I'm a god."

Beatrice had to stifle a laugh, "you're not a god."

"How else do you explain it? I write things and then they come back to life. Yeah, no, I'm definitely a god. A cruel, cruel capricious god. The things I put you through... The physical beatings _alone_!"

"Yeah, we're still in one piece."

"I killed your Father. I burned your Mother alive. And then you had to go through the whole horrific deal again with Jessica."

"Chuck-"

"All for what? For the sake of literary symmetry! I toyed with your lives, your emotions, for... Entertainment! And Beatrice, oh my God I killed your brother in front of you. And... Are you really a witch?" He asked in a hushed tone. Beatrice glanced at his glass, and it exploded.

"You didn't toy with us, Chuck, okay? You didn't create us." Dean tried to reassure him.

"Did you really have to live through the bugs?"

"Yeah."

"What about the ghost ship?"

"Yes, that too."

"I am so sorry. I mean, horror is one thing. But to be forced to live bad writing... If I had known it was real, I would have done another pass."

"Chuck, you're not a god!"

"We think you're probably just psychic." Sam reiterated.

"No. If I were psychic, you think I'd be writing? Writing is _hard_."

"It seems that somehow you're just focused on our lives."

"Yeah, like, laser focused. Are you working on anything right now?" Beatrice asked, glancing at a pile of discarded papers on the coffee table. Chuck rushed to his feet.

"Holy crap."

"What?"

He rummaged among the sheets "The uh, latest book? It's kind of weird."

"Weird how?" Fred pressed.

"It's very Vonnegut."

"'Slaughterhouse five' Vonnegut or 'Cat's Cradle' Vonnegut?"

"It's uh, 'Kilgore Trout' Vonnegut. I wrote myself into it. I wrote myself, at my house, confronted by my characters."

Sam piled laundry into a washing machine while Sam, Beatrice and Fred poured over the manuscript. "I'm sitting in a laundromat, reading about myself sitting in a laundromat reading about myself. My head hurts."

"There's got to be something this guy's not telling us." Fred sighed.

"'Sam tossed his gigantic darks into the machine'," Beatrice read aloud over Dean's shoulder, "'he was starting to have doubts about Chuck, about whether he was telling the whole truth'."

"Stop it."

"'Stop it, Sam said'. Guess what you do next?" Beatrice grinned as Tam turned away, scowling, "'Sam turned his back on Beatrice, his face brooding and pensive.' I mean, I don't know how he's doing it, but this guy is doing it. I can't see your face but those are definitely your 'brooding and pensive' shoulders. You just thought I was a dick."

"The guy's good."

Chuck paced nervously up and down the room. Beatrice watched, feeling as though she was watching a tennis match with the way her head snapped back and forth. "So, you wrote another chapter?" Sam said finally.

"This was all so much easier before you were real."

"We can take it. Just spit it out." Beatrice insisted

"You especially are not gonna' like this."

"I didn't like being locked in a shifter's basement."

"It's Lilith. She's coming for Sam."

That certainly peaked Beatrice's attention. Rage near enough boiled her blood and her dark eyes narrowed dangerously. "Coming to kill him? When?"

"Tonight."

"She's just gonna show up? _Here_?"

Chuck sat, slipping his glasses on and picking up a manuscript, "uh, let's see, uh... 'Lilith patted the bed seductively. Unable to deny his desire, Sam succumbed, and they sank into the throes of fiery demonic passion."

Sam laughed. "You're kidding me, right?"

Beatrice turned on him, near enough spitting flames. "You think this is funny?"

"You don't? I mean, come on, 'fiery demonic passion'?"

"It's just a first draft." Chuck said defensively.

"Wait, wait." Dean interrupted, placing a hand on Beatrice's arm to stop her lunging at Sam, "Lilith is a little girl."

"No, uh, this time she's a 'comely dental hygienist from Bloomington, 'Indiana'."

"Great. Perfect. So what happens after the fiery demonic whatever?"

"I don't know," Chuck admitted, "it hasn't come to me yet."

"Bea, look, there's nothing to worry about. Lilith and me? In bed?"

She glared at Sam, but her words were addressed to Chuck, "how does this whole psychic thing of yours work?"

"You mean my process?"

"Yes, your 'process'."

"Well, it usually starts with a headache. A really bad headache. Aspirin is useless, so I drink. Until I fall asleep. The first time it happened, I thought it was just a crazy dream."

"The first time you dreamt about us?"

"It flowed. It just.. It kept flowing. It still does. I can't stop it, really."

"You can't seriously believe-" Sam started but Fred cut him off.

"Look, why don't we, we just..." As she was talking, Chuck held out the manuscript for her and she took it, "take a look at these and see what's what. You-"

"Knew you were gonna ask for that. Yeah."

Beatrice watched silently out of the window as Dean drove and Sam read aloud the latest chapter. "Dean, come on. 'The minivan accident wasn't that bad, but Dean was still seeing starts. He scratched absently at the pink flower band-aids on his face."

"So?"

"So, I've seen you gushing blood. You'd use duct tape and bar rags before you'd put on a pink flower band-aid."

"What's your point?" Beatrice snapped.

"My point is this, all of this, is totally implausible. It's nuts!"

"He's been right about everything so far," Fred tried to reason, "you think he's just gonna' ground out at first now?"

Sam scoffed and continued reading, "'Dean slid behind the wheel of his beloved Impala and drove off, the plastic tarp on the rear window flapping like the wings of a crow."

"A tarp?" Dean glanced at him.

"Yeah. On the rear window. And you drive it like that."

"Well, he might be wrong about the details but that doesn't mean he's wrong about the end result."

"So, we're just gonna run?"

"Dude, we are a long way from ready for a face-to-face death match with Lilith." They reached a roadblock, and Dean braked hard. A deputy leaned into the window, "what seems to be the problem?"

"Bridge is out ahead."

"We're just trying to get out of town."

"Yeah, afraid not."

"Is there a detour?"

"Nope."

"There's not a side road that takes us to the highway?"

"To get to the highway, you have to cross that river. To cross the river, you have to take that bridge."

"How deep's the river?"

"Sorry. Afraid you kids are gonna' have to spend the night in town."

Fred sipped coffee. Sam and Dean were still reading the manuscript. "Hey, this could be a good thing. I mean, if this is what puts us on the path to Lilith, then all we got to do is get off the path."

"How do you mean?" Beatrice asked.

"It's a blueprint of what not to do. I mean, if the pages say we go left-"

"Then we go right." Sam finished.

"Exactly. We go off book. We never make it to the end. It's opposite day. It says that you, uh, you and Bea get into a fight. So no fighting. No research for you."

"No bacon cheeseburger for you."

"Yeah, no problem. I'll just order something else." Dean looked up as the waitress approached, "hi, uh, what's good?"

"Well, if you like burgers, Oprah's girlfriend said we have the best bacon cheeseburgers in the country."

Dean's face fell. "Really?"

"I'll just have the cobb salad, please." Sam smiled.

"I'll have the... Veggie tofu burger," Dean said, crestfallen, "thanks."

The waitress took their menus and disappeared into the kitchen, "this whole thing's ridiculous." Sam said, sipping his beer.

"Lilith is ridiculous?" Beatrice challenged him, still annoyed.

"The idea of me hooking up with her is."

He tried to rest his hand on her thigh but she snatched it away. "Right. 'Cause something like that can _never_ happen." She snapped, referencing Ruby. She didn't think she'd ever forgive him for that. _Ever_.

Sam started to scowl, then changed his mind, "Bea, for the first time, we have warning that Lilith is close."

"So?"

"So, we've got the jump on her. If we know when she's coming, we know where she is. This is an opportunity."

"Are you-" Beatrice sighed, trying her best not to get angry, "it frustrates me when you say such reckless things."

"Well, it frustrates me when you'd rather hide than fight."

Beatrice went to respond but the waitress returned and she shut her mouth. "Cobb salad for you. And the tofu veggie burger for you." She left, and so Beatrice leaned closer, a scowl on her face.

"It's not hiding. It's being smart. It's picking your battles. This is a battle we are not ready to fight."

Dean took a large bite out of his burger, "oh my god, this is delicious! Tofu is amazing!" He split up the argument with a beam.

The waitress returned suddenly, looking incredibly flustered, "I am so sorry. I gave you the bacon cheeseburger by mistake."

The Impala rolled up to the parking lot of a run down, sleazy looking motel. Sam scoffed. "Dude, this place charges by the hour."

"Yeah, well, the book says Lilith finds you at the red motel. Hence, the uh, hooker inn. It's opposite day, remember?" Dean replied.

They booked a room and went in. Beatrice dropped her bag on the bed and started emptying it, putting little hex bags around the room. "What are you doing?" Sam asked, a frown creeping onto his face.

"Couple of hex bags ought to Lilith proof the room."

"So, what? I'm supposed to just hole up here all night?"

"That's exactly what you're gonna' do." Dean insisted, "okay? And no research. I don't care what you do. Use the magic fingers or watch Casa Erotica on pay per view." He reached into Sam's bag and slid out his laptop.

"Oh, dude. Come on!"

"Just call it a little insurance."

"What are you gonna' do?"

"Well, the pages say that we spend all day riding around in the Impala. So I'm gonna go park her, and Bea and Fred are gonna' come with me. Behave yourself, would you? No homework. Watch some porn."

Beatrice was silent. Dean could practically see the fires of hell in her eyes as he drove and he exchanged a glance with Fred in the rear view mirror, who spoke up, albeit nervously. "Beatrice?"

The older girl turned around. She was still seething. "_Yes_?"

"Uh, I don't think you have anything to worry about with-"

"He slept with Ruby!" Beatrice cut in, finally exploding. Dean was concerned his car might set alight, "he slept with that filthy demon and now he expects me to not only be okay with this, but find it funny! Like it's some kind of _joke_! I should have stayed at the motel with him. I don't trust him anymore!"

"Bea..." Dean trailed off, shaking his head, "this is Sammy we're talking about."

"Sure. Sure, Dean, it's Sammy. Sammy who had an affair with a _demon_." Beatrice turned back to face the window. The rest of the drive was silent. They parked up outside a row of shops and the three of them got out. Not seconds later, Dean whipped around to see two teenagers attempting to break in.

"Hey!" He ran into the road without looking and a van hit him.

"Dean!" Fred screamed. Beatrice's eyes widened and she stood, frozen in horror as a woman got out of the van, followed by her little daughter.

"Oh my God," she stuttered, "I... I didn't even see him! Oh _God_."

The little girl sprinted forward and immediately started sticking pink band-aids on Dean's face. Fred and Beatrice exchanged a mortified glance as Dean started to come round. "Stars." He mumbled, somewhat incoherently.

"What was that?" The woman said, frowning ,"I'm so sorry. I just didn't see you. Are you okay?" She watched Dean sit up, slowly, "and sorry about.. You know. M-My daughter's going through a doctor phase."

"What are you talking about?" Dean muttered.

"You're all better now." The girl said knowingly.

Dean raised a hand to his cheek and his face fell when he felt the band-aids covering the left side of his face. He struggled to his feet, aided by Fred and Beatrice who guided him back to the car. The back window of the Impala had been smashed. "Oh, no." Fred whispered. Beatrice's skin had paled and her hands shook as she unfolded a tarp sheet from the back of the car and rested it on top of the window.

"Chuck's." She managed to choke out, "we have to get to Chuck's."

Dean stumbled into the driver's seat and the girls piled into the back. The door was locked when they got to Chuck's, but the window was open, so they climbed in instead. Mere minutes passed before the door unlocked and Chuck came in. "I take it you knew we'd be here." Dean said.

"You look terrible." He said to Dean.

"That's 'cause I just got hit by a minivan, Chuck."

"...Oh."

Beatrice got to her feet, fuming, "that's it? Every damn thing you write about us comes true, and all you have to say is '_oh_'?"

"Please don't yell at me."

"Why do I get the feeling there's something you're not telling us?"

"What wouldn't I be telling you?"

"How you know what you know, for starters!"

"I don't know how I know, I just do!"

"That's not good enough." Beatrice snarled. She threw up her hand and Chuck hit the wall, slowly sliding up towards the ceiling. "_How the hell are you doing this_?"

There came a flap of wings beside her and Castiel grabbed her shoulder. "Beatrice, let him go!" He snapped. Beatrice staggered back, startled, and Chuck fell. "This man is to be protected."

"Why?"

"He's a Prophet of the Lord."

"You... You're Castiel, aren't you?" Chuck said shakily.

"It's an honor to meet you, Chuck. I admire your work." Castiel picked up a manuscript and flicked through it. Fred stared at the angel.

"Whoa, what? This guy, a prophet? Come on, he's.. He's.. He's practically a penthouse forum writer!" She turned to Chuck, "did you know about this?"

Chuck sunk into his armchair, pouring himself a fresh glass of whiskey, "I, uh, I might have dreamt about it."

"And you didn't tell us?"

"It was too preposterous! Not to mention arrogant. I mean, writing yourself into the story is one thing, but as a prophet? That's like, M. Night level douchiness."

"This is the guy who decides our fate?" Fred said quietly to Cas.

"He isn't deciding anything. He's a mouthpiece, a conduit for the inspired word."

"The word? The word of god? What, like the new new testament?"

"One day, these books, they'll be known as the Winchester gospel."

"You've got to be kidding me." Beatrice laughed bitterly.

"I am not kidding you."

"If you'd please excuse me one minute." Chuck stood, still gripping the bottle, and disappeared upstairs. Dean turned skeptically to face Cas.

"Him? Really?"

"You should've seen Luke."

"Why'd he get tapped?"

"I don't know how prophets are chosen," the angel sighed, "the order comes from high up on the celestial chain of command."

"How high?"

"Very."

"Well, whatever. How do we get around this?" Beatrice interrupted.

"Around what?"

"The Sam-Lilith love connection. How do we stop it from happening?"

"What the prophet has written can't be unwritten. As he has seen it, so it shall come to pass."

Beatrice stormed into the motel room to find Sam sat on the bed. "Come on. We're getting out of here."

"What? Where?"

"Anywhere, okay? Out of this motel, out of this town. I don't care if we have to swim. We are getting out." She looked around suddenly, confused, "baby, where are all the hex bags?"

"I burned them."

"You _what_?"

"Look, if Lilith is coming, which is a big 'if'-"

"No, no no. It's more than an 'if'," Fred said urgently, "Chuck is not a psychic. He's a prophet."

"What?"

"Cas showed up and apparently Chuck is writing the gospel of us."

"Okay."

"Okay, let's get the hell out of here."

"No."

"Lilith is gonna slaughter you." Dean snapped.

"Maybe she will, maybe she won't."

"So, what? You think you can take her?"

"Only one way to find out, Dean. And I say bring her on."

"Sam-"

"You think I'll do it, don't you? You think I'll go dark side."

"Yes!" Beatrice cried, "okay? Yes. The way you've been acting lately? The thing's you've been doing? Oh, I know. How you ripped Alastair apart like it was nothing, like you were swatting a fly. Cas told me, okay?"

"What else did he tell you?"

"Nothing I don't already know. That you've been using your psychic crap, and you've been getting stronger. We just don't know why, and we don't know how."

"It's not what you think-"

"The what is it? Sam? 'Cause I'm at a total loss." She reached for her bag and turned to the door, "are you coming or not?"

"No."

Beatrice and Dean exchanged a glance. Tears filled her eyes and she dropped her bag forcefully to the ground before leaving. Dean pulled Fred outside, "stay with him," he mumbled, "don't let him do anything stupid."

"Right." The dark haired girl disappeared back inside. When Dean went out, the Impala was gone, and so was Beatrice.

"Well, I feel stupid doing this," Beatrice said loudly, leaning against the Impala she'd parked hastily in a field, "but I am fresh out of options. So please. I need some help. I'm praying, okay? Come on. _Please_."

"Prayer is a sign of faith," Castiel spoke behind her, "this is a good thing, Beatrice."

"So does this mean you'll help me?"

"I'm not sure what I can do."

Beatrice looked at him pleadingly, "drag Sam out of here, now. Before Lilith shows up." There was fear in her voice that Castiel picked up on.

"It's a prophecy. I can't interfere."

"You have tested me and thrown me every which way. And I have never asked for anything, not a damn thing! But now I'm asking. I need your help, _please_."

"What you're asking it's... Not within my power to do."

"Why? 'Cause it's 'divine prophecy'?"

"Yes."

"So, what? We're just supposed to sit around and wait for it to happen?"

"I'm sorry."

"Screw you! You and your mission. Your God. If you don't help me now, then when the time comes and you need me, don't bother knocking."

She shouldered past him and tried to walk away but his voice stopped her. "Beatrice. Beatrice!"

"What?"

"You must understand why I can't intercede. Prophets are very special. They're protected." He explained calmly. She raised an eyebrow, suddenly intrigued.

"I get that."

"If anything threatens a prophet, anything at all, an archangel will appear to destroy that threat. Archangels are fierce. They're absolute. They're heaven's most terrifying weapon."

"And these archangels, they're tied to prophets?"

"Yes."

"So if a prophet was in the same room as a demon-"

"Then the most fearsome wrath of heaven would rain down on that demon. Just so you understand why I can't help."

Beatrice nodded, and smiled. "Thanks, Cas."

"Good luck."

"Where are Dean and Bea?" Sam asked when Fred went back in. She hesitated, running a hand nervously through her curls as he observed her from the bed.

"Beatrice took the Impala." She told him, "Dean went after her."

Behind her, there was a knock on the door and they both froze. Sam got up to answer it, but the doorway was empty. When he and Fred turned away, Lilith was stood behind them. "Hello, Sam."

"I've been waiting for you."

The door closed.

"Where's the knife, Sam?" The demon said, her voice seductive.

"On the nightstand, by the bed."

Lilith started towards the bed, but stopped. She stooped a little and lifted the rug to reveal a devil's trap Sam had hastily painted earlier. She rubbed it a little with her finger, and the mark flared and burned away. She tutted as she stood and turned to face Sam and Fred. "You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that."

Lilith glanced between the two of them. "I was under the impression we'd be alone." She said in reference to Fred. She raised her hand and Fred slammed into the wall. Everything went dark. "That's better."

Beatrice stepped into Chuck's living room. He sat up, surprised to see her, which seemed to surprise him. "What are you doing here? I didn't write this!"

Beatrice brought him to his feet without touching him. He struggled against her spell. "Come on. I need you to come with me."

"What? Where?" Chuck demanded.

"To the motel where Sam is."

"That's where Lilith is!"

"Yeah, exactly. I need you to stop her."

"Are you _insane_? Lilith? I know what she's capable of, Beatrice! I wrote her!"

"Alright, listen to me. You have an archangel tethered to you, okay? All you got to do is show up and boom! Lilith gets smoked."

"But... I-I haven't seen that yet! The story-"

"Chuck, you're the only shot I got left!"

"But I'm just a writer."

"This isn't a story anymore, man! This is real! And you're in it. Now, I need you to get off your ass and fight. Come on, Chuck."

"No friggin' way."

"Okay. Well then, how about this. You have a witch in your front room and if you don't come with me, I'll blow your head up."

"I thought you said I was protected by an archangel."

"Well, interesting exercise. Let's see who the quicker draw is."

Beatrice threw open the motel room door. Sam was on the bed, Lilith on top of him as she raised the knife high above her head, aiming for Sam's heart. "I am the prophet Chuck!" Chuck yelled.

Lilith paused, and she rolled her eyes as she un-straddled Sam and got up. "You've got to be joking." She scoffed, approaching Chuck.

"Oh, this is no joke," Beatrice smiled nastily. The room trembled and a bright white light poured in through the windows, "you see, Chuck here's got an archangel on his shoulder. You've got about ten seconds before this room is full of wrath and you're a piece of charcoal. You sure you want to tangle with that?"

Lilith threw one last glance to Sam, and then poured screaming out of the vessel's mouth.

Beatrice staggered past Chuck, near enough collapsing on top of Sam and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. He caught her, holding her tightly around her waist. "Don't you ever, _ever_ do that again." She mumbled in his ear. Tears streamed down her face and he pressed a kiss to her jaw.

"You have my word."

Behind them, Fred slowly raised her head. "What did I miss?"

It felt nice to be in the driver's seat for once, Beatrice decided as she drove the Impala to where she agreed to pick up Dean. Fred slept in the back, nursing a trauma headache while Sam sat quietly in the passenger's seat. "So, a deal, huh?" Beatrice said, breaking the silence. Sam nodded.

"That's what she said."

"To call the whole thing off? Angels, seals, Lucifer rising... The whole nine?"

"That was the gist of it."

"Huh."

"What?"

"You didn't think once about taking it?"

"You kidding me? Sweetheart, you spent all day trying to talk me off the Lilith track." Sam laughed a little. It was hollow.

"I'm just saying-"

"She would have found some way to weasel out of it. And it would have cost us our lives."

"Yeah. I guess you're right."

"Anyway, that's not the point."

"What's the point?"

"The point is, she's scared. I could see it, Lilith is running."

"Running from what?"

"Don't know. But she was telling the truth about one thing."

"What's that?"

"She's not gonna survive the apocalypse. I'll make sure of that."

Beatrice pounded on the church's heavily sealed doors. "Sam? Sam! _Sam_!" She waited anxiously and felt Dean's hand in her own, comforting the other. She could only wish she hadn't left Chuck, Castiel and Fred alone with the archangel.

"Bea..." She heard Sam's voice behind the door and after that, Ruby.

"What are you waiting for? Now! Sam, now!"

At the sound of the rival demon's voice, Beatrice's blood boiled. She raised her hands, aiming at the door but nothing happened. "Dammit!"

"You turned yourself into a freak. A monster. And now you're not gonna bite? I'm sorry, but that is honestly adorable." Hearing Lilith's voice behind the doors brought her rage to a boiling point and Beatrice aimed again. But instead of the doors exploding, she found herself in the church, the doors behind her still locked and Dean still on the outside.

Lilith was tied to an alter, her limbs dangling while Sam held out his hands in front of him, panting. Ruby laughed and the sound echoed horribly. Blood from Lilith's body poured out in a very deliberate stream. "What the hell?" She whispered.

"I can't believe it!" Ruby laughed gleefully.

"Ruby, what's going on?" Sam demanded.

"You did it. I mean, it was a little touch and go there for a while, but... You did it." She sighed in euphoria.

"What? What did I do?"

"You opened the door! And now he's free at last. _He's free at last_."

Sam's eyes widened in horror and he backed away. Despite everything, Beatrice took his hand. "No, no no no. No, he... Lilith- I stopped her! I killed her!" Sam stuttered. Tears came into his eyes.

Ruby spoke fervently. "And it is written that the first demon shall be the last seal. And you bust her open. Now guess who's coming to dinner?"

"Oh my god."

"Guess again." Ruby smirked as behind them, Dean pounded on the doors again, "you don't even know how hard this was. All the demons out for my head... No one knew. I was the best of those sons of bitches! The most loyal! Not even Alastair knew, only Lilith. Yeah, I'm sure you're a little angry right now, but I mean, come on, Beatrice! Even you have to admit, I'm... I'm awesome!"

"You bitch! You lying bitch!" Sam lifted his hands, attempting to use his powers but he dropped instead, clutching his head. Beatrice dropped to her knees beside him, cradling him and for that he was thankful.

"Don't hurt yourself Sammy. It's useless. You shot your payload on the boss."

"The blood. You poisoned me."

Ruby crouched in front of them, mocking them. "No. It wasn't the blood. It was you, and your choices. I jut gave you the options and you chose the right path every time. You didn't need the feather to fly, you had it in you the whole time, Dumbo. I know it's hard to see it now, but this is a miracle. So long coming. Everything Azazel did, and Lilith did. Just to get you here. And you were the only one who could do it."

"Why? Why me?"

"Because it had to be you, Sammy. It always had to be you. You saved us. You set him free! And he's gonna be grateful. He's gonna repay you in ways that you can't even imagine." The door burst open behind them and Dean staggered in, holding the knife. Ruby stood to confront him. "You're too late."

"I don't care."

The older Winchester advanced on her with the knife and Sam jumped up, grabbing her and holding her in place as Dean stabbed her, hard. She flickered with light and then crumpled to the floor, dead.

Beatrice got shakily to her feet. Sam drew her into his arms, gasping with dry sobs. "I'm sorry." He said brokenly.

The blood pouring from Lilith finished its pattern on the floor and a brilliant white light shot from the central point. The church trembled. "Sammy, let's go," Dean urged him. Sam reached out and grabbed Dean's shirt.

"Dean... He's coming."


	5. Chapter 5

Season 5

Beatrice Wells sat in the back of the Impala, legs pulled to her chest, chin on her knees. "Change the station." She heard Dean mutter to Sam. Every few seconds the station would change and a fresh news report would burst into life. It was slowly becoming irritating. Sam reached out and shut the radio off. Silence filled the car.

"Dean, look-" He began, but Dean cut him off.

"Don't say anything," he sighed, "it's okay. We just got to keep our heads down and hash this out, all right?"

"Yeah, okay."

Beatrice straightened up, scraping her hair back from her face to show she meant business. "All right, well, first things first; how did we end up on Soul Plane?"

"Angels, maybe? I mean, you know, beaming us out of harm's way?" Sam suggested, glancing at her in the rear view mirror. She shrugged.

"Well, whatever. It's the least of our worries. We need to find Cas and Fred."

Beatrice wandered through Chuck's house, her eyes drinking in the devastation. At the sound of a noise, she spun on her heels but when her eyes met nothing she returned her attention to the carnage. There came a yelp of pain and she turned again to see Chuck hitting Sam over the head with a plunger.

"Geez! Ow!" Sam snapped and he glared at Chuck.

"Sam?"

"Yeah!" Beatrice stifled a laugh at Sam's defensive tones.

"Hey, Chuck." She greeted him warmly. He smiled at Beatrice then returned his attention to Sam.

"So.. You're okay?"

"Well, my head hurts."

"No, I mean.. I mean my.. My last vision. You went like, full on Vader. Your body temperature was one-fifty. Your heart rate was two hundred. Your eyes were black."

"Your eyes went _black_?" Dean demanded. Sam looked sheepish.

"I didn't know." He defended himself but the fight was gone from his voice.

"Where's Cas and Fred?" Beatrice asked, ignoring the brothers. Chuck hesitated before he spoke, and she could see the pain in his eyes. Her face fell before he even answered.

"They're dead. Or gone. The archangel smote the crap out of them. I'm sorry." Chuck sighed.

"You're sure? I mean, maybe they just vanished into the light or something."

"Oh, no. They, like, exploded. Like a water balloon of chunky soup."

Dean shook his head, punctuating with a sigh. "Oh, those stupid bastards."

"_Stupid_?" Beatrice rounded on Dean, enraged. "They were trying to help us!"

"Yeah, exactly." Dean glared back at her.

"So what now?" Sam interrupted, splitting up the fight before it even started.

"I don't know." Dean admitted. He went to say something else, but Chuck's cut him off. The prophet's expression wavered and he looked terrified. His expression chilled Beatrice's blood.

"Oh, crap."

"What?"

"I can feel them."

Seconds later, Zachariah and two lower ranking angels burst through the door. "Thought we'd find you here." He smirked maddeningly. "Playtime's over, kids. Time to come with us."

"You keep your distance, asshat." Beatrice warned, stepping away from them.

"You're upset."

"Yeah, a sons of bitches jump-started judgment day!"

"Maybe we let it happen. We didn't start anything. Right, Sammy?" He turned his smirk to Sam and winked, "you had a chance to stop your boyfriend, and you couldn't. So let's not quibble over who started what. Let's just say it was all our faults and move on. 'Cause like it or not, it's apocalypse now. And we're back on the same team again."

"Is that so?" Dean scoffed.

"You want to kill the devil. We want you to kill the devil. It's... Synergy."

"And we're supposed to _trust_ you? Cram it with walnuts, ugly."

"This isn't a game, son. Lucifer is powerful in ways that defy description. We need to strike now, hard and fast before he finds his vessel."

"His vessel? Lucifer needs a meat suit?" Sam cut in, surprised.

"He is an angel. Them's the rules. And when he touches down, we're talking Four Horsemen, red oceans, fiery skies... The greatest hits. You can stop him. But you need our help."

"You listen to me, you two-faced douche," Beatrice spat, eyes narrowed and her tone dangerously low, "after what you did, we don't want jack squat from you!"

"You listen to _me_, girl! You think you can rebel against us? As Lucifer did?" Zachariah paused, seeing blood drip from Beatrice's hand, "you're bleeding." He observed. She smirked.

"Oh, yeah. A little insurance policy in case you guys showed up." She slapped her bloody palm onto the angel banishing sigil she'd messily scribbled on the back of the door while Dean had distracted him. "Learned that from my friend Cas, you son of a bitch." She snarled, watching them disappear.

Chuck groaned. "This sucks ass!"

Dean loaded a gun, nodding in approval as he set it down on the bed, and then checked it again as though to distract himself. "Hey." Sam greeted him as he entered the motel room. Dean looked up.

"Hey."

Sam pulled something from his breast pocket and tossed it at Beatrice, who caught it in mid air without moving and she levitated it to her hand open hand. "Here," Sam said, "hex bags. No way the angels will find us with those. Demons, either, for that matter."

"Where'd you get it?" She asked, unwrapping the little parcel and inspecting the contents.

"I made it."

"How?" She spoke with a raised eyebrow and Sam hesitated on his response long enough for Beatrice to work it out but he told her anyway.

"I learned it from Ruby."

"You realize your girlfriend's a witch, right? Anyway, speaking of. How you doing? Are you jonesing for another hit of bitch blood or what?"

"I-It's weird. Uh, tell you the truth, I'm fine. No shakes, no fever. It's like whoever... Put us on that plane cleaned me right up." He sighed.

"Supernatural methadone." Dean suggested, raising his eyebrows slightly.

"Yeah, I guess."

There was a pause. Sam seemed to hesitate. "Dean-" He started, but his brother cut him off.

"Sam. It's okay, you don't have to say anything."

"Well, that's good. Because what can I even say? 'I'm sorry'? 'I screwed up'? Doesn't really do it justice, you know? Look, there's nothing I can do or say that will ever make this right."

"So why do you keep bringing it up?" Beatrice interrupted. She sighed, shaking her head. "Look, all I'm saying is, why do we have to put this under a microscope? We made a mess. We clean it up. That's it."

Dean sensed the tension and quickly started talking. "All right, so, say this is just any other hunt. You know? What do we do first?"

"We'd uh, we'd figure out where the thing is." Sam mumbled, avoiding Beatrice's steely gaze.

"Alright. So, we just gotta' find, the devil."

Beatrice flicked through John's journal. "How would you then explain an earthquake, a hurricane, and multiple tornadoes, all at the same time, all around the globe?" The voice of the interviewer on TV spoke, making her jump. She hadn't realized Dean had turned the television on.

"Two words. Carbon emissions." A second man spoke.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. Wavy gravy." He mumbled. Beatrice chuckled. She opened her mouth to reply but there was a knock on the door, interrupting her. Sam stood and opened it after exchanging a glance with Dean. At the door was a young woman, who appeared to be so excited she was having difficulty breathing.

"You okay lady?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"Sam... Is it really you?" She said longingly. Sam looked to Beatrice in alarm as the woman's hand outstretched and cupped around his chest. "And you're so... _Firm_."

"Do we know you?" Beatrice snapped, getting to her feet.

"No. But I know you. You're Sam Winchester. And you're Dean Winchester. And you're," she turned to Beatrice, "not what I expected. I'm Becky." Becky pushed past Sam and entered the room. "I read all about you guys. And I've even written a few..." She glanced at Sam and Dean, giggling. "Anyway. Mr Edlund told me where you were."

Beatrice frowned. "Chuck?" Becky ignored her.

"He's got a message, but he's being watched. Angels. Nice change-up to the mythology, by the way. The demon stuff was getting kind of old."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Right.. Just, um.. What's the message?"

"He had a vision. 'The Michael sword is on earth. The angels lost it'." She recited.

"The Michael sword?" Beatrice raised an eyebrow.

Sam looked at her incredulously. "Becky, does he know where this thing is?"

"In a castle, on a hill made of forty-two dogs."

"Forty two dogs?" Dean challenged her, staring like she'd gone mad.

"Are... Are you sure you got that right?" Sam added.

"It doesn't make sense, but that's what he said." She took a step closer to Sam. "I memorized every word... For you." She pressed her hand to his chest again and Beatrice narrowed her eyes, clenching her fist like she was about to fling a fireball at her. Sam looked to her helplessly.

"Uh... Becky? Can you uh... Quit touching me... Please?"

"No."

Later that day, after Becky had gone, there was a knock on the door. Beatrice stood and opened it before the brothers got there. Every time there was a knock, she couldn't help but hope it was Fred or Castiel. She missed them both dearly. Instead, it was Bobby. "Hey, Bobby." She greeted him with a smile, letting him hug her.

"Good to see you all in one piece." He smiled, letting go.

Beatrice slumped back onto the bed. "You weren't followed, were you?" She said cautiously.

"You mean by angels, demons, or Sam's new superfan?" Bobby smirked. Sam laughed.

"You heard?"

"I heard, Romeo. So... Sword of Michael, huh?"

"You think we're talking about the actual sword from the actual archangel?"

"You better friggin' hope so."

Bobby reached in his bag and pulled out a book, which he flipped to a page he'd bookmarked earlier. "That's Michael. Toughest son of a bitch they got."

"You kidding me? Tough? That guy looks like Cate Blanchett." Dean snickered.

"Well, I wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley, believe me. He commands the heavenly host. During the last big dust-up upstairs, he's the one who booted Lucifer's ass to the basement. Did it with that sword." He jabbed his finger at the picture of the sword that Michael held, "so if we can find it..."

"We can kick the devil's ass all over again. All right. So, where do we start?" Sam sighed.

"Divvy up and start reading. Try and make sense of Chuck's nonsense." Bobby suggested with a shrug. Sam stood and turned to collect a pile of books brought by Bobby. He paused, surveying the younger Winchester carefully. "Kid? You alright?"

"No, actually. Bobby, this is all my fault. I'm sorry."

"Sam.." Beatrice got to her feet and placed a hand on his shoulder but he went on anyway.

"Lilith didn't break the final seal. Lilith was the final seal."

"Sam, stop it!"

"I killed her. And I set Lucifer free."

"You _what_?" Bobby looked horrified.

"You guys warned me about Ruby, the demon blood, but I didn't listen. I brought this on." Beatrice guided him to the bed and sat him down, her hand still on his shoulder. Bobby took a step towards them.

"You're damn right you didn't listen. You were reckless and selfish and arrogant." He spat.

"Bobby!" Beatrice yelled.

"I'm sorry..." Sam looked down at his lap, tears welling in his eyes. Beatrice glared at Dean.

"Dean, say something!" He ignored her and he too glared at Sam.

"Oh, yeah?" Bobby laughed bitterly, "you're sorry you started Armageddon? This kind of thing don't get forgiven, boy. If, by some miracle, we pull this off... I want you to lose my number. You understand me?"

Sam nodded and Beatrice felt her heart break. "There's an old church nearby. Maybe I'll go read some of the lore books there." He mumbled. He brushed Beatrice's hand from his shoulder and stood.

"Yeah. You do that." Bobby snapped and watched him leave. Beatrice glared at both Dean and Bobby.

"What the _bloody hell_was that?" She berated them. "After all he's been through? How can you treat him so badly? He did what he thought was right. None of us knew about Lilith. None of us! So don't act like you're any better!"

"Oh, don't act the peacemaker. You've been ignoring him for weeks." Dean scoffed.

"He had an affair with Ruby, Dean. I didn't expect him to open the gates of hell while he was balls deep!" She yelled. The viciousness in her own words shocked her but she didn't back down.

"I never would have guessed that your daddy was right." Bobby said quietly to Dean.

"About what?"

"About your brother."

"What John said. You save Sam or kill him. Maybe..."

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe we shouldn't have tried so hard to save him."

"Bobby.."

"He ended the world, Dean! And you and I weren't strong enough to stop him proper. That's on us. I'm just saying, your dad was right." Bobby shrugged. His casual tone alarmed Beatrice but something occurred to her suddenly and she shot to the bed where she'd left John's journal.

"C'mon... It's in here somewhere." She mumbled, skimming the pages urgently.

"What the Hell are you talking about?" Dean asked, staring at her.

"Here." She fished a card out of a plastic bag taped to the pages and read it. "I don't believe it."

"What the Hell is it?" Bobby asked, walking over to her.

"It's a card for John's lockup in upstate New York. Read it." She tossed the card to him.

"Castle storage. 42 Rover Hill."

"Castle on a hill of forty two dogs." Dean looked up as the realization hit him.

"So you think John had the Michael sword all this time?" Bobby asked.

"I don't know. I'm not sure what else Chuck could have meant." Dean sighed, shaking his head.

A smirk tugged at the corners of Bobby's lips. "Yeah. Okay. It's good enough for me." He rushed at Dean, grabbing his head and slamming it down hard on the ground. Dean struggled, but his gaze was misty and as blood dribbled from his nose, Bobby hit him again and Dean went still in Bobby's hands.

Beatrice froze, watching in horror. "Bobby what the hell are you doing?" She gasped. His eyes flashed black. "Oh, no..." She braced herself as he pounced at her and tightened his hands around her throat.

Everything went black.

When Beatrice awoke, she was still sprawled on the floor of the motel.

The demon possessing Bobby had Dean by the throat and was holding him against the wall. A woman entered suddenly and behind her, another male. Both of them were had pitch black eyes. "I always knew you were a big, dumb, slow, dim pain in the ass, Dean. But I never dreamed you were so V.I.P." She laughed. Beatrice pushed herself up on her elbows and watched, ignoring the throbbing in her head as the woman picked up Ruby's knife from the table. "I mean, you're gonna ice the devil? You? If I'd have known that, I'd have ripped your pretty, pretty face off ages ago." She continued.

"Ruby." Dean said bitterly. The woman laughed.

"Try again. Go back further."

Realization hit Beatrice like a train. "Meg."

"Hi. These are the days of miracle and wonder. Our father's among us. You know we're all dreaming again for the first time since we were human? It's heaven on earth. Or hell. We really owe little Sammy a fruit basket."

"My god, you like the sound of your own voice." Dean snapped.

"But you, on the other hand, you're the only bump in the road. So every demon, every single one, is just dying for a piece of one of you." Meg went on, ignoring Dean's snide comment. Dean laughed.

"Get in line."

"Oh, I'm in the front of the line, baby. Let's ride." Meg took a stride forward and pressed her lips to his, taunting him, and when she pulled back she wiped her mouth.

"What is that, peanut butter?"

"You know, your surrogate daddy's still awake screaming in there. And I want him to know how it feels slicing the life out of you." She pressed the knife into Bobby's hand, a smirk painting her lips. Beatrice groaned in pain.

"Bobby, no!" She pleaded. He ignored her.

Meg cackled. "Now!" She demanded. Bobby raised the knife high above Dean's chest, face expressionless.

"Bobby." Dean tried to reason and for a moment, it seemed pointless.

The black faded from Bobby's eyes. He dropped the knife and for a moment Beatrice was relieved until he stabbed himself, and he flashed gold as the demon inside of him died. She couldn't bring herself to cry out. She was too exhausted, too drained to do anything other than watch in horror. As Dean became free he tackled the demon lingering behind Meg, forcing him onto the floor.

The demon reacted quicker than Dean and pushed himself up before slamming Dean back into the wall. Beatrice took advantage of Meg's momentary distraction and lunged, tackling her and dragging her to the ground.

Behind her, the door opened. Beatrice didn't know if it was demons or Sam but in that moment, she didn't care. Meg grabbed her by the hair and dragged her head back, exposing her neck. Beatrice kicked out desperately, but the demon hung on, only pulling her hair harder and drawing a scream from her lips.

"Bea!" She heard Sam yell. He threw a punch at Meg and she released Beatrice but before anyone could react she threw herself at Sam and straddled him, pinning him to the ground.

"Heya, Sammy. You miss me? 'Cause I sure missed you."

"_Meg_?" He cried. The demon laughed and punched him in the jaw.

"It's not so easy without those super-special demon powers, huh, Sammy?" She smirked. Beatrice crawled up behind Meg, ready to come to Sam's rescue, but the male demon grabbed her by the back of her shirt and dragged her back. She struggled violently under his grasp.

Suddenly, Dean swept in like the savior Beatrice badly needed. He kicked the demon in the spine, snatched the knife from Bobby's stomach and forced it into the back of the demon's neck. He slumped forward, trapping Beatrice between his body and the floor. Dean threw him to one side and pulled Beatrice to her feet. He took a step threateningly forward towards Meg, who simply threw them an eerie grin. She threw her head back and Beatrice watched as the black smoke poured out from in between her slightly parted lips.

Beatrice stared at the entrance of the lock up. Sam and Dean were sifting through the trunk of the Impala, looking to arm themselves against whatever they may end up facing. She felt Sam at her side and he pressed a shotgun into her hand which she gratefully accepted. "Thanks." She whispered. He nodded in response.

Dean unlocked the door and pushed it open with his left hand, using his right to hold his own shotgun close to him. The corridor was scattered with the corpses of tens of demons. Stood in the middle of the massacre was Zachariah. "I see you told the demons where the sword is." The angel said casually, narrowing his eyes at the three.

"Oh, thank god. The angels are here." Beatrice said sarcastically.

"And to think... They could have grabbed the weapons any time they wanted," he waved a hand and the door slammed behind them, "they were right in front of them."

"What do you mean?"

"We may have planted that particular piece of prophecy inside Chuck's skull, but it happened to be true. We did lose the Michael sword. We truly couldn't find it. Until now. You've just hand-delivered it to us."

"We don't have anything." Beatrice insisted.

"It's you, you pair of chuckleheads. You're the Michael sword." his accusing finger swiveled to Dean, "what, you thought you could actually kill Lucifer? You simpering wad of insecurity and self-loathing? No. You're just a human, Dean. And not much of one."

"What do you mean, I'm the sword?" Dean demanded.

"You're the weapon. Or rather... The receptacle."

"I'm a _vessel_?"

"You're _the_ vessel. Michael's vessel."

"How.. Why.. Why me?"

"Because you're chosen! It's a great honor."

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, life as an angel condom. That's real fun. I think I'll pass, thanks." Dean scoffed, shaking his head. It did make sense though, Michael and Lucifer, the brothers.

"Joking. Always joking. Well... No more jokes." Zachariah cocked his fingers like a gun, and moved it from Dean, to Beatrice, and finally to Sam. There was a loud crunch and Sam crumpled, suddenly unable to stand.

"God!" He groaned, cradling his legs.

"What did you do to him?" Beatrice demanded, crouching beside him.

"Keep mouthing off, I'll break more than his legs. I am completely and utterly through screwing around. The war has begun. We don't have our general. That's bad. Now, Michael is going to take his vessel and lead the final charge against the adversary. You understand me?"

"How many humans die in the crossfire, huh? A million? Five, ten?" Dean said bitterly.

"Probably more. If Lucifer goes unchecked, you know how many die? All of them. He'll roast the planet alive."

"There's a reason you're telling us this instead of just nabbing us. You need my consent. They need our say-so to ride around in my skin."

"Unfortunately, yes."

Beatrice ignored them, turning to her boyfriend. "I'm gonna' kill him," She said venomously, stroking Sam's hair. "You're going to be fine." She assured him and she looked up to the angel, "well, there's got to be another way."

"There is no other way. There must be a battle. Michael must defeat the serpent. It is written."

"Yeah, maybe. But, on the other hand... Eat me. The answer's no." Dean snapped.

"Okay. How about this? Your friend Bobby. We know he's gravely injured. Say yes, and we'll heal him. Say no, he'll never walk again."

Dean considered it for a moment, then shook his head, "no."

"Then how about we heal Sam and Beatrice from... Stage-four stomach cancer?"

Beatrice let out a whine, doubling over as she spat blood into her hand. Dean looked desperately at them but when Beatrice shook her head, he shook his own. "No."

"Then let's get really creative. Uh, let's see how... Sam does without his lungs." Zachariah looked to Sam and Beatrice followed his gaze. Sam clutched at her sleeve, clawing desperately for breath that he couldn't quite reach. Beatrice looked desperately to Dean.

"Dean!" She cried.

"Are we having fun yet? You're going to say yes."

"Just kill us." Dean insisted.

"Kill you? Oh, no. I'm just getting started." A light behind him flashed. Zachariah turned, eyes wide, as one of the lower ranking angels slumped to the floor. Behind the dead angel, Cas lowered the angel blade. "How are you..?" Cas simply shook his head and slid the blade into the second angel like he was made of no more than butter.

"Alive? That's a good question. How did these two end up on that airplane? Another good question. 'Cause the angels didn't do it. I think we both know the answer, don't we?" Cas challenged him.

"No. That's not possible."

"It scares you. Well, it should. Now, put these people back together and go. I won't ask twice."

Zachariah vanished and the four were left alone in the lockup. "You three need to be more careful." Cas continued, watching as they all got up and recovered.

"Yeah, I'm starting to get that. Your frat brothers are bigger dicks than I thought." Dean grumbled.

"I don't mean the angels. Lucifer is circling his temporary vessel. And once he takes it, those hex bags won't be enough to protect you."

Cas closed his eyes. A stabbing pain shot through Beatrice's chest and she groaned. "What the Hell was that?" She mumbled as the pain subsided.

"An Enochian sigil. It'll hide you from every angel in creation, including Lucifer."

"What, did you just brand us with it?"

"No. I carved it into your ribs."

There was a pause, then Sam spoke.

"Hey, Cas, were you really dead?"

"Yes." The angel looked around at the lockup. "Where's Winifred?"

Beatrice looked anxiously to Sam. "She's not with you?"

"No." Castiel looked at her more intently. "Where is she, Beatrice?"

"She... She died, Cas. The Archangel..." She trailed off. Something flickered in Castiel's eyes, remorse perhaps, and he disappeared, leaving the trio alone with the dead.

Fred's eyes shot open. Her head throbbed when she tried to lift it and she groaned, dropping it back against the pillow. She remembered nothing. Just being in Chuck's front room with him and Castiel, and then... Darkness. Unspeakable pain, and then darkness so black, it suffocated her.

From what she could tell, she was alone.

She sat up in the bed and gripped the sheets, drinking in her surroundings and trying to figure out where the hell she was. She felt like she was trapped in some nightmare, but the feeling of scratchy cotton between her fingers grounded her and reminded her that this was real, whatever _this_ was.

"Hello?" Her voice was hoarse and her throat stung but it was nothing compared to the overwhelming feeling of panic rising in her chest. It was silent, so she tried again, a little louder this time. "_Hello_?"

From what she could gather, she was in a motel room. The wallpaper was peeling and dotted with mold and the curtains seemed to have been singed at some point in time, and upon opening the door, Fred found herself in a long, straight corridor. The lights flickered overhead and she very nearly ran back into the room in terror but forced herself to step out into the hallway instead, though her heart pounded.

The carpet was soft underfoot and tickled her bare feet and if she wasn't so scared, she probably would have laughed. But she was confused, everything ached and she was frightened. "Please," she called out and slid down the wall, drawing her knees to her chest, "I don't know where I am! Please! _Please_!"

As her voice rose to a scream she punched the wall behind her and the plaster dented and crumbled, falling to the carpet like snow but Fred didn't care. She let out a little cry, feeling her hope drain away. "I want to go home." She whimpered, defeated.

_ Home?_She thought bitterly, _where is that? You don't have a home, remember?_

Fred buried her face between her knees and sobbed. Down the corridor, she heard heavy footsteps, but couldn't bring herself to look up until something soft wrapped around her shoulders and guided her to her feet. Fred opened her eyes. Castiel's face was inches from her own and his dark wings were draped around her, keeping her safe. She smiled weakly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Hey, Cas."

"Hello Winifred."

"What happened to me, Castiel?"

"You died."

"Oh... is this heaven?"

Castiel shook his head. His dark hair flopped in front of his eyes. "No. This is a motel."

"Oh."

"It was the Archangel," he went on, "he obliterated us. But God brought me back. I couldn't go on knowing he hadn't done the same for you, so I pulled some strings."

Fred nodded slowly and then looked around the corridor, "where are the others?"

"Alive. The Winchesters allowed Lucifer to rise." When Castiel saw Fred's horrified expression, he went on, "they didn't know. Killing Lilith was the final seal."

Castiel slowly unwrapped his wings and Fred stepped back, dumbfounded. "How are we still alive, Cas? If Lucifer is walking the earth, where's the hell fire? How is this _possible_?"

"I don't know." Castiel admitted, "I wish I could tell you." For a moment he seemed hesitant, and Fred didn't think he was going to say anything else but she fixed him with a steely glare and he wilted under her intense gaze. "Things have changed. Beatrice took off. Sam and Dean are on their own."

Tears sprung into Fred's eyes. "What's happening to us, Cas?"

Castiel didn't answer. Instead, he reached out and wiped her tears with the pad of his thumb. "I'm going to give you a choice," he said softly, "you can do the same as Beatrice. Live normal, and be happy. Or you can join me in assisting Dean. I will not judge you, instead I will help you, whatever it is you choose."

Fred wanted normal. She did, more than anything. She wanted a shitty apartment and a dog and a collection of plants, but she realized in that moment that she only wanted those things if Cas was there too. She smiled sadly at her angel. "Let's go hunt."

Castiel placed two fingers on her forehead and when Fred opened her eyes again she was in a different motel room altogether, but one that was obviously lived in. In the corner was a rucksack with clothes spilling out of it and on the dresser was a half drunk bottle of beer. There was only one bed. She looked around, dazed, but behind her a bathroom door opened and Dean and Castiel came out. The oldest Winchester froze when he saw her, but he used Castiel's calm presence to affirm it was really her and he flew to her, wrapping his arms around her middle and holding her tightly to him.

"Dean.." She said softly, burying her face in his familiar jacket.

Dean rested his cheek atop her soft curls, relishing in the fact that his closest childhood friend was alive, and in his arms. "Hi, Freddy." He whispered back, "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too!" Fred parted from him, looking around the room. Beatrice's absence was obvious, but she couldn't stop coming back to the fact that there was only one bed. "Dean, where's Sam?"

Dean smiled bitterly. "Sam and I are taking separate vacations for a while," he said. Fred looked at him, clueless, so he went on, "he took off after Bea. Said he loved her too much to let her go. So," he turned back to Castiel, "you find God yet? More importantly, can I have my damn necklace back, please?"

"No, I haven't found him. And that's why I'm here. I need your help."

"With what? God hunt? Not interested."

"It's not God. It's someone else."

That peaked Dean's attention. He stopped packing his bag for a moment and turned back to face Castiel, one eyebrow cocked up in question. "Who?"

"Archangel. The one who killed Fred and I."

"Excuse me?"

"His name is Raphael."

"You were wasted by a teenage mutant ninja angel?"

"I've heard whispers he's walking the earth. This is a rare opportunity."

"For what? Revenge?"

"Information."

Dean moved over to the sink and started to clean a knife with his back to the pair of them, something Fred recognized as a tactic to avoid feeling anything more than rage. "So, what? You think you can find this dude and he's gonna spill God's address?" Dean asked cynically. Castiel nodded.

"Yes. Because we're going to trap him and interrogate him."

Dean paused for a moment. Fred saw his back muscles tense under his shirt. "You're serious about this?" He turned to face Castiel and Fred. One look in the angel's eyes, and Dean knew he didn't have a choice. He sighed, setting the cloth and knife down. "I'm Thelma and you're Louise and we're just going to hold hands and sail off this cliff together? Give me one good reason why I should do this."

"Because you're Michael's vessel and no angel will dare harm you."

"Oh, so I'm your bullet shield."

"I need your help because you and Fred are the only ones who will help me. Please."

"Alright," Dean sighed, "fine. Where is he?"

"Maine. Let's go." Castiel reached out for Fred and Dean's forehead but Dean jerked away. "What?"

"Last time you zapped me some place I didn't poop for a week. We're driving."

Being alive was not quite as easy as Fred remembered.

For example, that morning after Castiel and Dean's conversation, she made a sandwich, (a slice of bread between two slices of cheese), confused her sweater for a pair of jeans and tried to drink perfume. While Dean had assured her these were perfectly normal side effects of being temporarily dead, he and Castiel had decided it was probably best if she stayed at the motel while they visited Maine.

She slept most the time, (being dead really did take it out of you), and the rest of the time she watched porn on the motel TV, just to make sure everything still worked, (which it did). By the time Dean returned alone, Fred was a fully functioning alive person again. "Hey," she said through a mouthful of Dean's potato chips, "where's Castiel?"

Dean shrugged. "Not sure. Are those my chips?"

"Mm hmm." She said. He glared at her, so she swallowed and smiled innocently. "I was dead."

"Yeah? Join the club." There was no real malice in his voice though and he threw his bag down by the door before sitting beside her on the bed. "So what do you remember?"

Fred's hand froze halfway to her mouth. "Wh-What?"

"Come on, Fred. I'm the one person you can't lie to about this. What do you remember about Hell?"

Fred swallowed hard and set the bag of chips down. "I.. I don't.."

"I won't tell if you don't." He held out his little finger and for a second it was like they were just little kids again. Fred hesitated, then reached out and wrapped her finger around his.

"I remember everything," she said softly, "I'm too scared to close my eyes. I don't.. I don't want to see it. Oh God, Dean, it.. it was awful." Her breath hitched in her throat and tears sprang into her eyes. Dean had spent enough time around Beatrice to recognize the signs of a panic attack and he wrapped Fred in a hug, letting her cry on his shoulder. "Please," she begged, "please don't tell Castiel about this. He'll only worry."

"Hey, you have my word." He placed two fingers beneath her chin and gently tilted her head up so he could wipe her tears. Fred smiled weakly, thanking him, and he understood.

Fred got up from the bed, moving towards the mini fridge so she could pour herself a glass of cool red wine but there was a flap of wings and Castiel appeared in the middle of the room, so she stopped. "Where've you been?" She asked him, wondering if he'd been listening to their conversation. She could only hope he hadn't.

"Jerusalem."

"Oh. How was it?"

"Arid." The angel set a jar down on the table.

"What's that?" Dean asked, coming over from the bed.

"It's oil," Castiel explained without really explaining at all, "it's very special. Very rare."

Castiel sat down. Without really thinking about it, Fred went over and rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. She took a second to notice how his muscles seemed to relax under her touch. "Okay," Dean said, inspecting the jar, "so we trap Raphael with a nice vinaigrette?" His words dripped with sarcasm.

"No." Castiel replied.

"So this ritual of yours, when does it got to go down?"

"Sunrise."

"Tell me something, you keep saying we're gonna trap this guy. Isn't that kinda like trapping a hurricane with a butterfly net?" Fred asked. She tried to sound casual but her voice wavered a little bit.

"No, it's harder."

"Do we have any chance of surviving this?"

The angel nodded. "You do."

Fred tried not to look like she was about to cry. She failed. Her lip wobbled and she had to fight to keep tears from rolling down her cheeks. "So," she said quietly, "odds are you're a dead man tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Well, last night on earth. What are your plans?" Dean cut in.

"I just thought I'd sit here quietly."

"Come on, booze, women, anything? You have been with women before, right? Or an angel, at least? You mean to tell me you've never been up there doing a little cloud seeing?"

"Look, I've never had... occasion, okay?"

"Alright," Dean grabbed his jacket, "let me tell you something, there are two things I know for certain. One, Bert and Ernie are gay. Two, you are not gonna die a virgin. Not on my watch. Let's go."

It was barely an hour before Castiel arrived back at the motel alone. While Dean had been pretty insistent, Fred had remained at their temporary accommodation. Something about seeing Castiel disappear with another woman hurt her, but she couldn't place why. Maybe it was just the idea of him being her soulmate.

She was almost asleep when the door opened and the angel stumbled in, looking quite flustered. "Castiel?" Fred said softly, sitting up in bed and rubbing her eyes, "where's Dean?"

"Out." Castiel approached the bed, swelling with new found confidence but when he sat down beside her, it seemed to dissipate and he wouldn't meet Fred's eyes. Confused, Fred innocently rested a hand on his thigh, intending to ask what was the matter but she noticed how he tensed up and an amused smirk reached her face.

"You didn't go through with it, did you?" She asked, teasing him only a little.

He shook his head.

"Did you want to?"

He shook his head again.

"Why not?"

"Because.. all I could think about when I went into that room was you."

"Me?"

This time, the angel nodded. Fred sat up on her knees, cupping his cheeks in her hands. "I've never done this before," he warned her in a low tone. She could sense his insecurity, and she nodded.

"Me neither."

"I'm glad it's you, Winifred."

"You're glad what's me?"

"I'm glad you're my soulmate." And with that, he kissed her. As inexperienced as he was, there was something intoxicating about Castiel's kiss, something so addictive that Fred could have stayed there with him all night. Her hands fell to his shoulders and slowly, she slid the tan trench coat down his arms. He froze, and she stopped, but his hands started to creep up her shirt so she took that as a sign to carry on. By the time Dean arrived home two hours later, Fred was asleep in Castiel's arms and for the first time, the angel slept too.

"So that's Raphael, huh?" Fred asked, peering at the empty shell of a man slumped in his wheelchair. Castiel stopped pouring the oil for a moment to answer her question.

"Was Raphael," he corrected her, "he left this man with little care."

"It's sick." She said softly, "he didn't consent to this."

"He did. Unknowingly, but he did."

Fred hesitated before she asked her next question. "Do you think you're going to die?"

"I think it's highly likely."

He went back to pouring the oil, the prospect not at all daunting to him but he stopped when he heard Fred let out a little sob. "I.. I don't want you to die," she sniffled, "I only just got you back."

Castiel smiled sadly and got to his feet, wiping her tears with his coat sleeve. "This isn't going to be the last time we meet, Winifred. I promise you, I'll never leave you. Not really."

"It isn't fair."

"I know."

The door opened behind them and Dean came in so Cas returned to his job, while Fred tried to look like she wasn't crying. Dean noticed, and she knew he had, but he didn't say anything to her. "When the oil burns, no angel can touch or pass through the flames, or he dies." Castiel explained. Dean nodded.

"Okay, so we trap him in a steel cage of holy fire, but one question. How the hell do we get him here?"

"Very simple. There's, well, almost an open phone line between a vessel and his angel. One just has to know how to dial." The angel crouched down to the vessel's ear and said something in Enochian before whispering, "I'm here, Raphael. Come and get me you little bastard."

The house was cold. It had clearly been empty for some years, but now, was occupied with an angel, a hunter, and a girl who just wanted to take a long nap. Fred started heading towards a door that would lead to the kitchen, but Castiel grabbed her arm. "Fred, wait," he said quietly, like he was anticipating something.

There was a bright flash and behind them, a threatening looking man appeared. "Castiel," the man said in a low, threatening tone. Castiel fluffed his wings like he was trying to make himself look more intimidating.

"Raphael."

"And I thought you were supposed to be impressive. All you do is black out the room." Fred challenged him.

"And the eastern seaboard." Lightening flashed outside. "It is a testament to my unending mercy that I do not smite you here and now."

"Or maybe you're full of crap," Fred scoffed, "maybe you're afraid God will bring Castiel back to life again and smite you and your candy ass skirt. By the way, hi. I'm Fred."

"I know who you are," the angel snarled, "and now, thanks to him, I know where you are. Where you _both_ are." He looked threateningly over to Dean. Castiel shook his head, stepping forward.

"You wouldn't kill him. You wouldn't dare."

"But I will take him to Michael. Her, however," he raised a finger and pointed it at Fred. For one horrible moment, she thought he was going to kill her again and she regretted that her last words would be that of a smart ass, "her, I have no problem killing."

"Well, then," Dean interrupted, "sounds terrifying. It does. But uh, hate to tell you, we're not going anywhere with you. You're certainly not about to lay a single hand on Fred." The older Winchester went into the kitchen, dumbfounding Raphael, and he returned with two cool beers, one of which he passed to Fred, who accepted it gratefully.

"Surely you remember Zachariah giving you stomach cancer?" Raphael challenged him.

Dean laughed. Fred looked at him, one eyebrow raised. Exactly how much had she missed while she was dead? "Yeah, that was.. that was hilarious." Dean said with a little sarcasm.

"Well, he doesn't have anything close to my imagination."

"Yeah? I bet you didn't imagine one thing," Fred smiled. Raphael looked at her tiredly.

"What?"

"We knew you were coming, you stupid son of a bitch." She dropped the match and around him, the holy oil caught fire. "Don't look at me," she said innocently, holding her hands up as if surrendering, when really, it was entirely the opposite. "It was Cas' idea."

"Where is he?" Castiel snapped.

"God?" Raphael laughed cynically, "didn't you hear? He's dead, Castiel._Dead_."

"Bullshit. There must be some other explanation." Fred said.

"There_is_ no other explanation. He's gone for good."

"You're lying," Castiel said, but he didn't sound so confident anymore.

"Am I? Do you remember the twentieth century? Think the twenty first is going any better? Do you think God would have let any of that happen if he were alive?"

"Oh yeah? Well then who invented the Chinese basket trick?" Fred said. Raphael turned on her with eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Careful. That's my father you're talking about, girl."

"Yeah, who would be proud to know his sons started the frigging apocalypse!"

"Who ran off and disappeared. Who left no instructions and a world to run."

"Daddy ran away and disappeared," Dean cut in, "he didn't happen to work for the post office, did he?"

"This is funny to you? You're living in a godless universe."

"And? What, you and the other kids just decided to throw an apocalypse while he was gone?"

"We're tired. We just want it to be over. We want... paradise."

"So, what," Fred said, trying to understand, "God dies and makes you the boss, and you decide you can do whatever you want?" It was a long time before Raphael answered. He locked eyes with her, and his gaze was so intense Fred kind of felt like he was reading her mind. She shifted uncomfortably and he smirked at her.

"Yes," he said finally, "and whatever we want, we get."

"If God is dead, why have I returned? Who brought me back?" Castiel challenged his brother further. Raphael rolled his eyes, infuriating Fred who had a good mind to punch him when they would inevitably meet again.

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe Lucifer raised you?"

Castiel was quiet for a moment. "...no."

"Think about it. He needs all the rebellious angels he can find. You know it adds up."

"Let's go." Castiel put his hand on Fred's hip and moved to guide her from the house. Dean followed them. Behind them, the fire cracked menacingly and Raphael let out a low growl.

"Castiel, I'm warning you. Do not leave me here. I will find you."

"Maybe one day. But today,you're my little bitch."

He and Fred left the room, leaving Dean alone with the enemy angel. He turned to him with a grin. "What he said."

The Impala cruised down a silent country road. No one spoke, and Dean hadn't turned the radio on. "You okay?" He asked Castiel suddenly, making Fred jump. The angel didn't answer, "look, I'll be the first to tell you that this little crusade of yours is nuts, but I do know a little something about missing fathers."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, there were times when I was looking for my dad when all logic said he was dead, but I knew in my heart he was still alive. Who cares what some ninja turtle says, Cas, what do you believe?"

"I believe he's out there."

"Good. Then go find him."

"And what about the two of you?"

Fred leaned forward in her seat. "We'll be okay, Castiel," she assured him, but he still looked skeptical so she went on, "I'll miss you, but you need to do this, for your own peace of mind if nothing else."

"Dean?" Cas said softly. "And you?"

"What about me? I don't know. Honestly, I'm good. I can't believe I'm saying that, but I am. I'm really good."

"Even without Beatrice and your brother?"

"Especially without them. I mean, I spent so much time worrying about those sons of bitches. I mean, I've had more fun with you and Fred in the past twenty four hours than I've had with Sam and Beatrice in years, and you're not that much fun. It's funny, you know, I've been so chained to my family, but now I'm alone, hell, I'm happy."

"Dean," Fred whispered, "he's gone."

Dean looked over to the empty passenger seat. His smile faded.

Something hard was pressing into Fred's back. She groaned, lifting her head up from the pillow and rubbing her eyes, and that was when she realized there was no pillow. In fact, there wasn't much of anything. Just a metal bed frame, and a completely trashed room. "What the hell?" She mumbled, sitting up in bed.

"Tell me about it."

The second voice startled her. She looked to the window where Dean was lingering, looking out onto the street. "Were we robbed?" Fred asked. Dean shook his head.

"Just... come and look."

Still dazed, Fred got up from the bed and crossed the room to the window. The street was desolate. Buildings were abandoned, cars were destroyed, there was graffiti everywhere.. it looked like a ghost town. "I'll reiterate," Fred mumbled, "what the hell?"

Dean didn't answer. She didn't think he even knew where to begin. He looked at her, one eyebrow raised as if asking, 'want to check it out?', and she really didn't, but it was either that or stay in the creepy motel room all day. Fred knew which one she'd rather pick. She went to grab her bag, but found it was missing, so just threw on a jacket instead.

She followed him out onto the empty street, looking expectantly for the Impala but the car wasn't there. "This is very, very wrong," she mumbled, "in no apocalypse would you not have a damn car."

A couple of streets away, glass smashed. Dean and Fred exchanged a look and they went to investigate, finding a little girl crouching in an alleyway. Dean raised his eyebrows. "Little girl?" He called, unsure of himself, "little girl? Are you hurt?" He took a step forward but Fred grabbed his arm, stopping him. Something about the child was making her incredibly uneasy. He shrugged her hand off and moved forward a second time. "You know this not-talking thing is kinda creepy, right?"

The little girl slowly turned to look at them over her shoulder. Blood dripped from her mouth and before either Dean or Fred could react, she lunged at the eldest Winchester with a shard of glass. "Jesus!" Fred cried, grabbing the girl by the shoulders and throwing her with all her strength down the alleyway. On the wall behind Fred, Dean read the graffiti.

_ CROATOAN_

"Oh, no." He muttered. The little girl was starting to get to her feet again but that was the least of their worries as a group of other infected people rounded the corner. As soon as they spotted Dean and Fred, they broke into a sprint towards them. Dean grabbed Fred's wrist, pulling her quickly towards the main street as a tank rolled down the road.

The tank opened fire and Fred cried out, but Dean pushed her to the ground behind a few discarded boards where they huddled together, terrified and clinging to one another. "Dean, what the hell is going on? What's Croatoan?" She demanded to know as he helped her up from behind the boards when the blood bath had ended.

_Of course_, Dean reminded himself. Fred had joined them long after their first encounter with Croatoans. "It's kind of like a disease," he explained quickly, "it passes by person to person through blood. Makes 'em crazy, hungry for violence. They're dangerous. This.. this isn't good." He couldn't articulate it any better than that.

Making their way back onto the street they noticed a small sign on a lamppost at the same time that read, 'CROATOAN VIRUS HOT ZONE, NO ENTRY, BY ORDER OF ACTING REGIONAL COMMAND. AUGUST 1ST 2014. KANSAS CITY'. Fred looked at the sign in horror. "August first, two thousand and fourteen," she read aloud. Her voice cracked and Dean grabbed her hand. "Where is everyone, Dean?"

He spotted a car across the street that, when he checked, was conveniently fueled. He kicked open the door and after letting Fred crawl over the steering wheel to the passenger seat, he hot wired it and got in. The engine roared satisfyingly and Fred felt a little bit safer. At least in a car they could try and mow the psychopaths down. She reached for the radio, but on every station there was only static. "That's never a good sign," she mumbled.

They'd been in the car twenty minutes, when... "Croatoan pandemic reaches Australia."

Fred yelped. Zachariah grinned at her from the back seat, setting down his newspaper. "I thought I smelled your stink on this back to the future crap," Dean snapped, unimpressed.

"President Palin defends bombing of Houston," Zachariah read aloud, returning to the paper, "certainly a buyer's market in real estate. Let's see what's happening in sports.. that's right, no more sports. Congress revoked the right to group assembly. Hardly a quorum, if you ask me."

"I didn't ask," Fred said, the same time Dean said, "how did you find us?"

"Afraid we had to tap some unorthodox resources of late; human informants. We've been making inspirational visits to the fringier christian groups. They've been given your images, been told to keep an eye out."

"The bible freak outside the motel, he, what, dropped a dime on us?"

"Onward christian soldiers."

"Okay, well, good. Great. You've had your jollies. Now send us back, you son of a bitch!" Fred said fiercely. Zachariah chuckled.

"Oh, you'll get back. All in good time. We want you to marinate a bit."

"Marinate?"

"Three days, Freddy. Three days to see where this course of action leads you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean challenged him.

"It means that your choices have consequences. This is what happens to the world if you continue to say 'no' to Michael. Have a little look-see." The angel vanished. Fred slumped further down into her seat, much like a deflated balloon. That was certainly how she felt and she sighed heavily.

"Of all the angels that could have paid us a visit, why did it have to be him?" She grumbled.

"It does raise a sticky point," Dean said back, "if he can find us here, who else can?"

It was another couple of hours before they arrived at Bobby's house. Fred had tried to sleep for most of the journey, but was just plagued by nightmares, so after a while she'd given up. Dean parked in the drive and for a moment, neither of them moved. Deep down, they both knew what was inside, but neither one wanted to admit it.

Dean was the first to move. He got out of the car so quickly that Fred had to jog to catch up with him by the time he reached Bobby's front door. "Bobby?" He called, going in without knocking, "Bobby, we're coming in."

His voice echoed in the hallway and no one called back. The house was a mess. Bobby had always been fairly unorganized, but this was something else. This was taking it to another level. His wheelchair was thrown on its side and Fred's heart sunk as she turned it upright. Four bullet holes were torn in the back rest and on the back was dried blood. She swallowed hard. "Oh, no."

Dean opened a drawer where he found his father's journal, which he skipped through until a little Polaroid photograph fell out. It featured Bobby, Castiel, and three men Fred didn't recognize stood under a sign that read 'Camp Chitaqua'. Fred looked uneasily at Dean, but he was staring at the picture, tears in his eyes. "Where is everyone, Bobby?"

The beaten down car rolled to a stop underneath the Camp Chitaqua sign. Just by it was the Impala, but it was rusted, and the wind screen was completely smashed in. Fred swore she saw the light leave Dean's eyes and he got out of the car, running a gentle hand across the Impala's bonnet. "Oh, baby. No." He moaned as Fred got out of the car to join him in surveying the damage.

Neither of them heard the footsteps creeping up on them until it was too late. Something hit Dean over the back of the head and he slumped, unconscious, over the car. Fred whirled around, panicked, and then the assailant was upon her. The last thing she remembered before everything went black was looking up into her own eyes.

It was the pounding in her head that awoke her. That, and the sound of very petty bickering, the kind of bickering that could only happen between two Dean Winchesters. At first, she thought she was dreaming, but that headache was very real, and so was the cool feeling of handcuffs around her wrists. "What the hell?" She mumbled, lifting her head a little.

"I think I should be asking the questions, don't you?" A voice identical to her own asked. Fred craned her neck to come face to face with herself, a slightly older version of herself with longer hair and a meaner look in her eyes. "Hello, Winifred."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." Fred let her head fall back painfully against the wall.

"Fred," Dean from the future addressed Future Fred who raised her eyebrows at him in response, "go and get Beatrice."

"Beatrice?" Dean looked at his future self urgently. "She's _alive_?"

"Beatrice rejoined us two years ago." Future Dean explained. Future Fred left the room and the three sat in silence for a second, until she returned a moment later with future Beatrice. She was a lot thinner than the Beatrice of 2009, her hair had been hacked to her shoulders and dyed blonde and, most alarmingly, balanced on her hip was a little girl.

"What is it Dean?" She asked tiredly. She didn't seem to notice Dean or Fred and if she did, she didn't care.

"Would you mind watching our... guests?" He asked. Fred noticed the way he spoke to her was much softer than the way he addressed her own future self. A sleepy smile reached Beatrice's face and she nodded, setting the little girl down on the floor to play. "Thank you, Sweetheart." Future Dean got up and pressed a kiss to her nose.

Future Fred rolled her eyes. "Alright, you two. Let's keep it in our pants for five minutes."

With that, she and Future Dean left the room. Fred thought Future Beatrice looked sadder. "What's her name?" She asked, looking down at the little girl who was racing two toy cars on the floorboards.

"Lavender." Future Beatrice said quietly. This woman was completely different to the Beatrice Fred knew from her own time. Her Beatrice was outspoken and sarcastic, but this.. this was a shell.

"Is she..?" Fred looked up, one eyebrow raised.

"Not Dean's," she affirmed. "Sam's. He.. never got to meet her."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

Fred didn't know what she found the most alarming. The fact that Sam had died, or the fact he and Beatrice had a child.

On the floor, Lavender started to cry all of a sudden. Beatrice sighed, swooping the little girl into her arms. "I have to put her down for a nap. I'm gonna assume right now that neither of you can be trusted alone."

Dean and Fred exchanged a glance. "Probably not." Fred admitted and Beatrice sighed again.

"Just.. five minutes. Stay put for five minutes."

And with that, she left. Fred turned to Dean with a raised eyebrow. "So, Beatrice, huh?"

"Shut up." He mumbled, not looking up from what he was doing. She could see how flushed his cheeks were, though. He managed to unscrew a nail from the floorboards which he used to unlock his handcuffs. He rubbed his wrists, thankful for the freedom, and then he undid Fred's. "What the hell do we do now?"

"Avoid our future counterparts, I suppose." She paused, "what the hell did you three talk about while I was out?"

"Sam. The apocalypse."

Fred was quiet for a moment, and then said. "I want to find Castiel. I want to know he's still alive."

"You really love him, don't you?"

Fred didn't reply. She shouldered past Dean and crept into the yard, narrowly avoiding Chuck, which meant Dean would be left to deal with prophet, which he was, as she could just hear a little of their conversation before she ducked into a random cabin. Inside, she wasn't expecting to find Castiel.

The entire structure smelled strongly of weed and he was surrounded by a circle of women. "So, in this way," he was saying in a soft voice, "we're each a fragment of total perception. Just, uh, one compartment in that dragonfly eye of group mind. Now, they key to do this total, shared perception, it's, um, it's surprisingly physical." He trailed off as he spotted Fred by the door. "Oh. Excuse me ladies, I think I need to confer with our fearless leader for a minute. Why not go get washed up for the orgy?"

The women left one by one, until eventually, Fred was alone with Castiel. "You're not Fred," he said after a moment.

"What? Yes, I a-"

"No, you're Fred. But you're not _my_ Fred. My Fred doesn't love me anymore."

Relief flooded Fred's body. At least she didn't have to explain it to Cas. He understood. But his words broke her heart because what had happened to turn her away from him? Even now as he was bedraggled and stoned, she just wanted to wrap him up in a blanket and love him. "I always was a bit of a bitch, wasn't I?" Fred said with a gentle smile.

"I never thought so."

Fred filled the space between them, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you."

"Even though I'm not your Castiel?"

"You've always been my Castiel."

"What year are you from?" Castiel asked as they parted.

"Two thousand and nine."

"Who did this to you? Is it Zachariah?"

"Yes."

"Interesting."

Behind them, Dean laughed bitterly and Fred jumped. She hadn't realized he'd come in. "Oh yeah, it's frigging _fascinating_. Now why don't you strap on your angel wings and fly us back to our page on the calendar?"

Castiel smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "I wish I could just, uh, 'strap on my wings', but I'm sorry. No dice."

"What, are you stoned?" Dean asked as a joke, but Castiel nodded.

"Generally. Yeah."

"What happened to you?"

"_Life_."

Outside the cabins, a car and a jeep both pulled up at the same time and Future Dean and Fred got out, followed by a group of soldiers. Dean opened a beer, drank it, and then handed a second bottle to one of the soldiers. As the soldier turned away to drink, Dean turned a gun on him, and Dean from Fred's own time cried out.

"Hey. Hey! Watch out!"

He spoke too late. The bullet shattered the man's skull and he crumpled to the ground, dead. Future Dean turned to face Fred and Dean and his face fell. "Damn it," he cursed, before turning back to his soldiers, "I'm not gonna lie to you. Us and them, it's a pretty messed up situation we got going. But believe me, when you need to know something, you will know it. Until then, we all have work to do."

Future Dean and Fred stalked towards the two thousand and nine pair and dragged them back to the original cabin where Beatrice was lingering by the door, a glare on her pretty face. "Five minutes, huh assholes?" She snapped.

"What the hell was that?" Future Dean yelled, shoving Dean into the room, (followed by Fred, her future self and Beatrice, who slammed the door behind them).

"What the hell was _that_?" Dean demanded, "you just shot a guy in cold blood!"

"We were in an open quarantine zone," Future Fred explained slowly like they were stupid, "got ambushed by some croats on the way out." Fred and Dean looked clueless, so she went on, "croats. Croatoans. One of them infected Yaeger."

"How do you know?" Fred asked.

Future Dean rolled his eyes. "Cause after a few years of this, I know. I started seeing the symptoms about half an hour ago. Wasn't gonna' be long before he flipped. I didn't see the point in troubling a good man with bad news."

"Troubling a good man?" Fred scoffed, "you just blew him away in front of your own people! Don't you think that freaked them out a little bit?"

"It's two thousand and fourteen," Future Beatrice told her, "plugging some croat, it's called common place. Trading words with their clones? That might have freaked them out a little."

"Alright, look," Dean started, but Future Dean cut him off.

"No, you look. This isn't your time, it's ours. You don't make the decisions. We do. So when we say 'stay in', you _stay in_."

"Alright, man. I'm sorry. Look, I.. I'm not trying to mess you.. me.. us, up here."

Future Dean sighed, "I know."

"It's just been a really wacky weekend."

"Tell me about it."

"What was the mission anyway?" Fred asked. Future Dean unhooked a gun from his thigh holster and held it up for her to see. Her dark eyes widened. "The_colt_?"

"The colt."

"Where was it?"

"Everywhere," Future Beatrice said, "they've been moving it around. Took us five years, but.. we finally got it. And tonight, tonight we're gonna kill the devil."

"So that's it?" Fred asked, still peering at the gun suspiciously, "that's the colt?"

"If anything can kill Lucifer, this is it." Future Dean assured her a second time. Fred nodded, then raised her eyebrows.

"Great. Have we got anything that can _find_ Lucifer?"

"We don't need to find Lucifer. We know where he is. The demon that we caught last week, he was one of the big guy's entourage. He knew." Beatrice told her. There was something disturbing, Fred thought, about Beatrice talking about a war on quite literally biblical proportions, with her tiny daughter on her lap.

"So a demon tells you where Satan's gonna' be, and you believe it?" Fred challenged.

"Oh, trust me," Future Dean smirked, "he wasn't lying."

"And you know this how..?"

"Our fearless leader, I'm afraid, is all too well schooled in the art of getting the truth." Castiel answered for him. Dean turned to the angel with wide eyes, then back to his future self.

"_Torture_? Oh, so we're.. we're torturing again. Nice. Classy."

Castiel laughed and Future Dean shot him a glare, so he held up his hands in surrender. "What? I like past you."

"Lucifer is here," Future Dean said, ignoring him and instead pointing to a little scale map of the area, "now, I know the block, and I know the building." Cas looked at him incredulously.

"Oh, good. It's right in the middle of a hot zone."

"Crawling with croats, yeah. You saying my plan is reckless?"

"Are you saying we uh, walk in straight up the driveway, past all the demons and the croats, and we shoot the devil?"

"Yes."

"Okay. If you don't like, uh, 'reckless', I could use 'insouciant', maybe."

"Are you coming?" Future Fred demanded. Fred had to bite back an urge to punch her future self in the face. Castiel had been right when he said his Fred didn't love him anymore. The way she spoke to him made two thousand and nine Fred feel physically sick. That was her angel, her _soulmate_, and she hated the look of hatred in her own eyes.

Castiel sighed. "Of course. But why are they? I mean, they're you five years ago. If something happens to them, they're gone, right?"

"They're coming." Future Dean snapped.

"Okay. Well uh, I'll get the grunts moving."

"We're loaded and on the road by midnight."

"Alrighty." Castiel left.

"Dean," Future Beatrice said softly. Both Deans looked but it became clear she was addressing the one from her own time, "I.. I want to come." It wasn't said as a question but Future Dean shook his head anyway.

"Absolutely not."

"Dean, I have to see him. I need to."

"It's not him anymore, baby. You know that. And.. Lavender needs you."

The little girl in Beatrice's lap nuzzled her face against her mother's chest. She couldn't have been more than three years old, Fred thought, but she already looked so much like both her parents. She had Beatrice's olive skin and dark hair, and Sam's hazel eyes. She was so soft, and gentle, that it hurt Fred to see her grow up in such an environment.

"I know, but..." Beatrice trailed off when she realized she didn't have much of an argument. Dean moved towards her, kissing her for a moment, and then kissing the top of Lavender's head. "I love you." Beatrice whispered. Future Dean nodded.

"I love you too. Both of you."

This time, Future Fred didn't make a sarcastic comment. Fred thought she even saw tears in her eyes. "Why are you taking us?" Dean asked his future self quietly when he'd sat back down in front of the map. Dean sighed.

"Relax. You'll be fine. Zach's looking after you, right?"

"No, that's not what I mean. I want to know what's going on."

"Yeah, okay. You're coming because I want you to see something. Because I want you to see our brother."

"Sam? I thought he was dead."

Beatrice laughed tearfully. The sound was hollow. "Sam didn't die in Detroit. He said 'yes'."

"Yes?" Dean looked at her for a moment, not understanding. And then all at once, he did. "Wait, you mean-"

"That's right," Future Fred said bitterly, "the big yes, to the devil. Lucifer's wearing him to the prom."

"Why would he do that?"

"Wish I knew," Future Dean said, pouring himself a glass of scotch, "but now we don't have a choice. It's in him, and it's not getting out. And we've got to kill him, Dean. And you need to see it, the whole damn thing, how_bad_ it gets, so you can do it different."

"What do you mean?"

"Zach said he was going to bring you home, right? To 'oh nine?"

"Yeah."

"Well, when you get back home, you say 'yes'. You hear me? Say yes to Michael."

"That's crazy! If I let him in, then Michael fights the devil. The battle's gonna torch half the planet."

"Look around you, man." Future Dean laughed tiredly, "half the planet's better than no planet, which is what we have now. If I could do it over again, I'd say 'yes' in a heart beat."

"So why don't you?"

"I've tried! I've shouted 'yes' until I was blue in the face! The angels aren't _listening_. They just left, gave up! Look at her, Dean. Look Beatrice in the eye, look that_little girl_in the eye and tell them you want this for them. That you're that selfish. It's too late for me, but for you.."

"Oh, no. There's got to be another way."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. I was cocky. Never actually thought I'd lose. But I was wrong, Dean. I was wrong. I'm begging you, say yes." There was a pause, before Future Dean laughed bitterly and went on, "but you won't. Because I didn't. Because that's just not us, is it?"

The car cruised steadily down the road. In the driver's seat was Future Castiel, and Fred couldn't take her eyes off him. It was strange being alone with him. She was used to Cas being stoic, and quiet, saving those shy smiles only for her. This was.. different. It was unsettling. Leaving one hand on the wheel, he used the other to dig a little bottle of pills from his pocket. "Let me see those," Fred said, holding out her hand expectantly. He dropped the bottle into her palm.

"You want some?" He offered.

"Amphetamines?" She said, unimpressed.

"It's the perfect antidote to that absinthe."

"Mhmm," Fred tossed him the bottle and he caught it, "don't get me wrong, Cas, I'm happy the stick is out of your ass. But.. what's going on, w-with the drugs, and the orgies and the love-guru crap?" Castiel laughed and Fred shot him a look, one eyebrow raised, "what's so funny?"

"Fred, I'm not an angel anymore."

"What?"

"Yeah. I went mortal."

"What do you mean? _How_?"

"I think it had something to do with the other angels leaving," he explained quietly and Fred could tell how much this was hurting him, "but when they bailed, my mojo just kind of.. psshew! Drained away. And now, you know, I'm practically human. I mean, Fred, I'm all but useless. Last year, broke my foot. All but useless."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"So, you're human? Well, welcome to the club."

"Thanks. Except I used to belong to a much better club. And now I'm powerless. I'm hapless. I'm _hopeless_. I mean, why the hell not bury myself in decadence and women, right? It's the end, baby. That's what decadence is _for_. Why not bang a few gongs before the lights go out? But then that's.. that' just how I roll."

Fred nibbled her lip nervously. "And what about.. her?"

"You mean you?"

"I guess so."

Cas laughed. The sound was hollow. "She gave up on me."

"There. Second floor window. We go in there." Future Dean said quietly, pointing up to the window with the barrel of his gun. Fred followed his gaze, trying to calm her nerves but something was making her very uneasy. She couldn't quite put her foot on what it was.

"You sure about this?" Future Fred asked, one eyebrow raised. Fred only had to take one look at herself to know she was absolutely terrified.

"They'll never see us coming. Trust me. Now, weapons check. We're on the move in five."

"Hey, uh, me." Dean said, tapping his future self on the shoulder. "Can we talk to you for a sec?" Future Dean rolled his eyes but followed Fred and Dean to a space away from the group. "Tell us what's going on."

"What?"

"I know you. You're lying to these people and to us."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. See, I know your lying expressions. I've seen them in the mirror. Now, there's something you're not telling us."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, really?" Fred challenged him, "well, we don't seem to be the only members of your posse with some questions, so uh, maybe we'll take our doubts over to them."

She turned to go, but Future Dean grabbed her shoulder, pulling her back, "okay, whoa whoa whoa. Wait."

"What?"

"Take a look around you, Fred. This place should be white hot with croats. Where are they?"

"They cleared a path for us. Which means this is-"

"A trap. Exactly."

"Well, then we can't go in the front."

"Oh, we're not," Future Dean told her with a sly smile that sent a chill down her spin, "they are. They're the decoys. You and me, we're going in through the back."

"You mean you're gonna' feed your friends into a meat grinder?" Fred asked, horrified, "Cas too? You want to use their deaths as a diversion? Oh, man. Something is broken in you. You're making decisions that we would never make. We wouldn't sacrifice our friends!"

"You're right. You wouldn't. It's one of the reasons we're in this mess, actually."

"These people count on you," Dean told his future self fiercely, "they trust you!"

"They trust me to kill the devil and to save the world, and that's exactly what I'm gonna' do."

"No. Not like this, you're not. I'm not gonna' let you."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah."

Future Dean reared back and before Fred could stop him, he slugged Dean in the face, knocking him to the ground, unconscious. Fred reached instinctively for her gun but Future Dean was already upon her, throwing her onto the floor. Her head smacked hard against a rock, and all she remembered was black.

It was some time before Fred opened her eyes again. Dean was still laid face down in the dust, so she crawled to him, shaking his shoulder urgently as gunfire erupted on the second floor of the building. Then, the gunfire ceased and one scream in particular stood out to her. _Castiel_. Bile rose in her throat. "No.. no, this isn't real." She moaned. It took all of her strength not to run back to the building. Silence swarmed into the courtyard, the screams dying as quickly as they had come. "How can this be real?"

"Mm, Fred?" Dean was starting to stir. Fred quickly wiped her eyes and helped him sit up. There was dried blood crusted under his nose but she decided not to point it out. "W-Where is he?" Dean muttered.

"I don't know." Fred admitted. Thunder cracked overhead and she flinched. "But he.. he went through with it. They're dead, Dean. Everyone else is _dead_."

"Fuck!" Dean cursed loudly, getting slowly to his feet with a little help from Fred. "We have to find him. Now."

Behind them, something cracked sickeningly and Fred turned, her face paling. "I.. I don't think that's going to be a problem."

Future Dean was on the ground. His eyes were glazed and lifeless, and on his neck was a spotless white boot. The foot shifted again, and Dean's neck cracked again as a second lot of bones were broken. Fred's gaze moved upwards from the foot to the face, and she almost cried when she realized it was Sam. Only it wasn't Sam, he was probably long dead. This was a monster. This was the devil.

"Oh, hello," he said casually, taking his foot off Future Dean's neck, "aren't you a surprise?" Lightening cracked, momentarily illuminating Sam in an eerie blue glow. "You two have come a long way to see this, haven't you?"

"Well, go ahead. Kill us." Dean snarled.

"Kill you?" Sam glanced down at Future Dean's corpse, "don't you think that would be a little.. redundant? I'm sorry, it must be painful, speaking to me in this.. shape. But it had to be your brother. It had to be." He reached out towards Fred, who stumbled backwards. Sam sighed, "you don't have to be afraid of me, Winifred. What do you think I'm going to do?"

"I don't know," she said sarcastically, "maybe deep fry the planet?"

"Why? Why would I want to destroy this stunning thing? Beautiful in a trillion ways. The last perfect handiwork of God. You ever hear the story of how I fell from grace?"

"Oh, dear god. You're not going to tell us a bedtime story, are you? My stomach's almost out of bile."

"You know why God cast me down? Because I loved him, more than anything. And then God created.." Sam trailed off to point an accusing finger at Dean and Fred, "you. The little hairless apes. And then he asked all of us to bow down before you, to _love_ you, more than him. And I said, 'Father, I can't.' I said, 'These human beings are flawed, murderous.' And for that, God had Michael cast me into hell. Now, tell me, does the punishment fit the crime? Especially, when I was right? Look at what six billion of you have done to this thing, and how many of you blame me for it." His voice was as smooth as silk but Fred refused to be fooled.

"You're not fooling me," Dean said fiercely, "you know that? With this 'sympathy for the devil' crap. I know what you are."

"What am I?"

"You're the same thing, only bigger. The same brand of cockroach I've been squashing my whole life. An ugly, evil, belly-to-the-ground, supernatural piece of crap. The only difference between them and you is the size of your ego."

Sam laughed out loud. "I like you, Dean. I get what the other angels see in you. Goodbye. We'll meet again soon."

"You better kill me now!" Dean yelled as Sam turned to go. Fred's hand flew out instinctively to his forearm in terror he was about to do something incredibly stupid. Sam stopped, still facing away from them, and then turned back with a bemused expression.

"Pardon?"

"You better kill me now, or I swear, I will find a way to kill you. And I won't stop."

"I know you won't. I know you won't say yes to Michael, either. And I know you won't kill Sam. Whatever you do, you will always end up here. Whatever choices you make, whatever.. details, you alter, we will always end up here. I win. So, I win."

"You're wrong."

"See you in five years."

Sam disappeared. Dean and Fred exchanged a look and when they turned back, Zachariah was in the devil's place, and when Fred opened her eyes again they were back in the motel room. Back in their time. "Oh, well if it isn't the ghost of Christmas 'screw you'." Fred said bitterly, but her voice wavered and Zachariah noticed.

"Enough. Winifred, enough." He turned to Dean, "you saw it, right? You saw what happens. You're the only person who can prove the devil wrong. Just say yes."

"How do I know this whole thing isn't one of your tricks? Some angel hocus pocus?"

"The time for tricks is over. Give yourself to Michael. Say yes and we can strike, before Lucifer gets to Sam. Before billions die."

Dean turned away, thoughtful for a moment. In those tense few seconds, Fred couldn't help but be terrified that he was going to agree to the angel's master plan. Instead, he smiled and said, "nah."

"_Nah_?" Zachariah said, horrified, "you're telling me you haven't learned your lesson?"

"Oh, I've learned a lesson alright. Just not the one you wanted to teach."

"Well, I'll just have to teach it again!" Zachariah yelled, but neither of them were listening. Instead, they were smiling at one another and while the angel ranted, they turned to leave the motel room. "I got you now, and I'm never letting you-" They would never hear the end of that sentence, as Fred slammed the door.

"You think he'll be here?" Fred said softly, wrapping her arms tighter around herself to keep out the chill. Dean shrugged, but he didn't look too certain. Not after everything they'd seen.

"Has Cas ever let us down?"

As if on cue, the angel appeared. "That's pretty nice timing, Cas," Fred smiled weakly.

"We had an appointment."

Dean laughed. Genuinely. "Don't ever change."

"How did Zachariah find you?"

"Long story. Let's just stay away from Jehovah's witnesses from now on. Okay?" Dean fished in his pocket for a moment and emerged victorious with his phone. Castiel peered at him curiously.

"What are you doing?"

"Something I should have done in the first place."

Dean stepped away from them to take his phone call. Fred hesitated, just for a second, and then wrapped her arms tightly around Castiel, who seemed slightly taken aback, but returned her affections, enveloping her in his soft, black wings. "Don't ever let me forget how much I love you." She said softly.

Cas smiled a little. "You love me?"

She nodded, burying her head in his chest. "More than anything."

"Then that's enough for me."

The sunlight was blinding. Fred lingered by the Impala, picking at her thumb nail while Dean leaned against the door, chewing his lip and staring blankly down at the ground. It felt like forever before the second car pulled up. Beatrice got out first and Dean grabbed her, pulling her into his arms. "You're never leaving again, you hear me?" He grumbled.

She laughed a little bit and nodded. "I can promise you that."

It was a few more seconds before Sam got out of the car. Dean turned to his brother, suddenly awkward. "Sam." He said curtly, like he was greeting an old acquaintance. Fred met Beatrice's eye and the two girls rolled their eyes. Dean pulled" out Ruby's knife and held it towards Sam. "If you're serious and you want back in, you should hang on to this. I'm sure you're rusty." Sam reached out and took the knife but he still refused to meet Dean's gaze. "Look, man," Dean said awkwardly, "I'm sorry. I don't know. I'm.. whatever I need to be. But I was, uh... wrong."

"What made you change your mind?" Sam said softly.

"Long story. Point is, maybe we are each other's Achilles heel. Maybe they'll find a way to use us against each other, I don't know. I just know we're all we've got. More than that. We keep each other human."

"Thank you. Really, thank you." This time Sam spoke with a genuine smile and he threw his arm around Beatrice's shoulders, who leaned into his side. "I won't let you down."

"Oh, I know it. I mean, you are the second best hunter on the planet." Dean teased.

"So, what do we do now?"

"We make our own future." Fred said softly. Beatrice laughed. It didn't meet her eyes.

"I guess we have no choice."

_ Supernatural is filmed before a live studio audience!_

Dean closed the refrigerator door, turning back to the table where a large sandwich was sat waiting for him, and where Fred was reading a book. "I'm gonna need a bigger mouth." Dean announced.

_ Laughter_

The door opened and Sam and Beatrice came in, to which there was much applause. "Hey there, guys," Dean greeted them, "what's happening?"

"Oh nothing much. Um. Just the end of the world." Beatrice said.

_ Laughter_

The couple noticed the sandwich on the table, looked at each other, back at Dean and said in unison, "you're gonna need a bigger mouth." Beatrice took a seat beside Fred, who high fived her before returning to her book, "hey, uh, have you done your research yet?" She asked Dean, who's face turned sheepish.

"Oh, yeah. All kinds of research. All night."

"Yeah? Hm."

The bathroom door opened and a bikini clad woman lingered in the doorway. "Oh, Dean," she cooed, "we have some more 'research' to do."

Beatrice folded her arms. "Dean..."

"Son of a bitch!"

"_Um, dispatch? I got a possibly 187 out here at the old paper mill on route 6_?"

A static charged voice woke Beatrice up. It took her a moment, but she realized the voice was coming from the little radio she'd hooked up to the police intercom. Suddenly alert, she sat up in bed. "Sam, Dean? You might want to get in here!" She called as a second voice drifted through the speakers.

"_Roger that_," the second voice said, "_what are you looking at there, son_?"

"_Honestly, Walt.. I.. I wouldn't even know how to describe what I'm seeing. Just.. send everybody_."

"_Alright, stay calm, stay by your car. Help's on the way_."

Beatrice reached out and turned off the radio. "That was weird," she commented, raising an eyebrow at Sam who looked just as clueless as she did. He shrugged.

"Weird enough to be our guy."

The Impala pared up outside the paper mill. It was the only car in the yard. Fred got out first, sweeping her dark curls from her eyes as she looked around. "There was a murder here, and there's no police cars. How does that look to you?" She turned to Beatrice who'd just gotten out of the car. The older girl shrugged, hapless.

"Crappy."

Now joined by the Winchester brothers, the four of them armed themselves with stakes and guns and moved stealthily towards the doors. They counted down, and on 'one', Sam threw open the doors and they burst in. What Beatrice had expected was a dingy, dirty warehouse, but instead, she found herself in a bright white hospital, dressed in a long white lab coat. She looked around, dazed, to see Sam and Dean dressed in identical coats, and Fred in blue scrubs. "What the hell?"

Two women, also dressed in the white coats, bypassed the little group. "Doctor." They greeted them in unison. Sam stared after them, his eyes wide with confusion.

"_Doctor_?"

Dean whipped around, throwing open the door they just entered to but instead of the Impala and the yard, they were met with a janitor's closet, that contained a man and a woman passionately kissing. Face blank, Dean closed the door again. A third female doctor approached them, greeting them with a, "Doctor", before slapping Sam hard across the face.

"Ow!"

"Seriously?"

"What?"

"_Seriously_? You're brilliant, you know that? And a coward. A brilliant coward."

"Um.. what are you talking about?"

In reply, the doctor slapped him again. "As if you don't know!" She said dramatically before sauntering off down the corridor. Sam turned to the others in disbelief, only to see Beatrice and Dean had gone into some kind of catatonic state, clinging to one another.

"I don't believe this," Beatrice said softly.

"What?" Sam asked.

"That's Doctor Piccolo," Dean gasped.

"Who?"

"Dr Ellen Piccolo! The sexy, yet earnest, doctor at.." Dean trailed off, looking at the sign behind the receptionist's desk which he gestured to angrily, "Seattle Mercy Hospital!"

"Dean, what the hell are you talking about?" Fred asked.

"The doctor getup's. The sexy interns. The 'seriouslys'. It all makes sense!" Beatrice answered first, looking around in complete and utter awe.

"What makes sense? What's going on?"

"We're in 'Dr Sexy MD'."

The four of them spent some time wandering aimlessly around the corridors. It was Fred who finally broke the silence. "What the hell?" She said loudly, losing her temper a little bit.

"I don't know." Sam sighed.

"No, seriously. What the _hell_?"

"I don't know!"

They seemed to be the only ones thinking rationally. Dean and Beatrice were far too busy looking around at all the different displays and the different staff members, thoroughly freaking everyone out. "One theory," Fred went on, "any theory!"

"Uh, the trickster trapped us in TV land?" Sam suggested.

"_That's_ your theory? That's stupid."

"Bea is the one who said we're on 'Dr Sexy MD'."

"Yeah, but TV land_isn't_ TV land. I mean.. there's actors, and.. and lights, and crew members, you know? This looks real!"

"It can't be. Fred, how can this possibly be real?"

"I don't know."

One of the female doctors from early wandered by. "There goes Dr Wang," Dean said dreamily, "the sexy but arrogant heart surgeon. And there's Johnny Drake, oh, he's not even alive! He's a ghost in the mind of..."

Another female doctor sat beside the man on a gurney and Beatrice's entire face lit up. Despite himself, Sam thought it was very endearing. "Of her. The sexy yet neurotic doctor over there."

"So.. this show has ghosts? Why?" Fred said with a raised eyebrow.

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. It's compelling."

"I thought you said you weren't a fan?"

"I'm not. I'm not!" He spotted something down the corridor suddenly and he grabbed Beatrice's arm, forcing her to look as well. Sam thought the pair of them might spontaneously combust. "Oh boy."

"What?" Sam said, clueless.

"It's him." Beatrice said breathlessly.

"Who?"

"It's him, it's Dr Sexy."

The man approached the group. Dean, suddenly bashful, looked down at the ground, trying to hide his embarrassed smile and failing miserably. "Doctor." Dr Sexy greeted them.

"Doctor." Beatrice and Dean said in unison.

"Doctor." Dr Sexy said again, this time to Sam, who only nodded so Beatrice hit him lightly on the arm. He rolled his eyes, but nodded again and gave a quick, "doctor." "You want to give me one good reason why you defied my direct order to do the experimental face transplant on Mrs. Biehl?"

Dean's face dropped. "One reason? S-Sure!" He looked down, trying desperately to think of a reason, but instead spotted Dr Sexy's white tennis shoes. His face dropped even further into a scowl and he slammed Dr Sexy against a wall. "You're not Dr Sexy."

"You're crazy."

"Really? Because I swore part of what makes Dr Sexy sexy is the fact he wears cowboy boots. _Not_tennis shoes."

"Yeah. You're not a fan." Fred snickered.

"It's a guilty pleasure."

"Call security." Dr Sexy called tiredly over to some other staff members.

"Yeah. Go ahead, pal. See, we know who you are."

The world seemed to freeze around them. Only Dr Sexy, Fred, Dean, Sam and Beatrice were moving. Dr Sexy smirked, and then his features morphed into that of the trickster. "You guys are getting better!"

"Get us the hell out of here." Beatrice said fiercely.

"Or what?" The trickster grabbed Dean's arm and twisted, "don't say you have wooden stakes."

"That was you on the police scanner, right? This is a trick." Fred said. It wasn't a question.

"Hello? Trickster! I heard you four yahoos were in town. How could I resist?"

"Where the hell are we?"

"Like it? It's all homemade. My own sets, my own actors. Call it my own little idiot box."

"How do we get out?" Dean asked.

"That, my friend, is the sixty four dollar question."

"Whatever," Sam snapped, then thought better of it and his tone softened, "we just.. we need to talk to you. We need your help."

"Hm, let me guess. You four mutton heads broke the world, and you want me to sweep up your mess."

"Please. Just.. five minutes. Hear us out."

"Sure. Tell you what, survive the next twenty four hours, we'll talk."

"Survive what?" Beatrice said suspiciously.

"The game!"

"What game?"

"You're in it."

"How do we play?"

"You're playing it."

"What are the rules?" Beatrice demanded, losing her patience. The trickster only grinned at her, before reaching up and clicking his fingers. He disappeared and the world around them started to move again. Beatrice groaned, holding her head in her hands. "Son of a bitch!"

The four stalked down the corridor. "Talking with monsters. Hell of a plan." Dean told Sam sarcastically who held up his arms as though surrendering, ready to defend himself.

"Just.. what do we do now?"

"You know what I'm doing? Leaving," Dean said in a grumpy voice as Ellen Piccolo approached them a second time. She swung for Sam, but he ducked, narrowly avoiding his face connecting with her palm.

"Lady, what the hell?" He said. She sighed, looking distraught.

"You are a brilliant, brilliant-"

"Yeah, coward. You already said that. But I got news for you. I am not a doctor."

Ellen's eyes filled with tears at Sam's statement. Renee Stahl's 'something real' started to play and Beatrice looked around, bewildered, "don't say that!" Ellen cried, "you are the finest cerebrovascular neurosurgeon I have ever met, and I have met plenty. So that girl died on your table. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anybody's fault! Sometimes people just _die_."

"I have no idea what you're saying to me."

"You're afraid. You're afraid to operate again. And you're afraid to love."

Ellen turned down the corridor and left, sobbing. Sam turned to the other three, his expression deadpan as he tried to work out what the hell just happened. "Yeah. We're getting out of here."

They took off down the corridor again but another man blocked their path. "Hey, Doctor," he said sadly to Dean, who very obviously rolled his green eyes.

"Yeah?"

"My wife needs that face transplant."

"Okay. You know what, pal? None of this is real, and your wife doesn't need jack squat, okay?"

"Hey Doctor," the man called again as they turned to go. As Beatrice started to turn back, there was a single gun shot, and Dean collapsed to his knees. Fred turned as if to confront the man but he was already gone.

"Real.. it's real!" Dean moaned, grabbing Beatrice's leg. She crouched beside him, pressing her hand against the bloody gash on his back to try and stop the bleeding. Panic swelled in the pit of her stomach.

"No.. no, no no no! Hey! We need a doctor!"

Dean laid face down on the surgical bed. While Fred and Sam worked frantically to try and seal his wound, Beatrice crouched by his head, holding his hand under the bed. "BP is eight over fifty and dropping." An unnamed doctor said to Sam, who stared blankly at her. Dr Wang shook his shoulder.

"Doctor?"

"What?"

The two female doctors exchanged glances but said nothing. "Sam," Fred said urgently, "do something. Come on."

"I don't know how to use any of this crap," Sam muttered to her.

"Figure it out!"

There was silence as Sam stared cluelessly down at the surgical tools. Dean groaned. "Sam. Come on. I'm waiting."

"Okay. Um, I need a penknife, some dental floss, a sewing needle, and a fifth of whiskey." No one moved and he lifted his hands as though exasperated with them. "Stat!"

It was some time before Sam was done. He snipped off the extra floss from Dean's stitches and he wiped his brow of sweat, visibly relieved it was over. "We okay?" Dean asked anxiously, lifting his head a little bit. He tried to sound confident but Beatrice heard how his voice shook. "How we looking?"

"Yep. You'll be fine."

The scene shifted suddenly. The blues and whites of the hospital faded around them and Beatrice looked around nervously as red swarmed her vision and just for a second, she blacked out. When she opened her eyes again she was in a television studio in front of an audience and dressed in an embarrassingly tight latex devil costume. She looked over at Fred, who was dressed in a latex angel costume. "You've got to be kidding me." Beatrice groaned.

Sam and Dean both had their feet strapped on to a podium and opposite was a large metal pole, which had an even bigger steel ball attached to the end. The doors behind them slid open and a middle aged Japanese man came in. "Nutcracker!" He announced and the crowd cheered delightedly. He pulled out a little card, "Sam Winchester," he broke off, speaking in Japanese, and then looking at the younger brother expectantly. "Countdown!" He finished in English.

"What?" Behind Sam, a large countdown flashed. "Uh, what am I supposed to say?"

"You think I know?" Dean said. He turned to Beatrice. "Any idea?"

"I'm _Korean_."

Sam turned back to the host. "Uh.. I.. I don't understand Japanese." The host spoke again in Japanese, probably repeating whatever it was he said earlier. Sam looked like he was starting to panic. "Is he screwing with me? I.. I.. I can't speak Japanese!" The clock chimed and the host mimed hiding his laughter.

"Ruby! I'm sorry, Sam Winchester."

"Sorry? Sir? For what?" He turned to his brother, "Dean?"

The pole at the end of the podium shot up. The metal ball struck Sam right in his crotch and he groaned in pain, hands flying to protect himself a moment too late. Dean stared in horror, while Beatrice and Fred had to hide their laughter. "Nutcracker!" The host said delightedly.

Beatrice looked down at her hands, where a bag of potato chips had suddenly appeared. She looked at Fred, dazed, as the host came over. "Have we discussed these nutritious shrimp chips?" Beatrice said, but the words that came out of her mouth weren't English. They were Japanese. "Lot's of nutrition, tastes great! And the more one eats, the slimmer they get. Just like you!" She motioned to Fred's body. The younger girl stared at her.

"I thought you were Korean," Dean called to her from the podium.

"I am!"

"It would have been nice to have known you speak Japanese two minutes ago." Sam said bitterly.

"I _don't_."

The lights on the doors started flashing and Fred groaned. "Oh, what now?" She snapped. As the doors slid open, Castiel entered, and her face changed immediately. "Cas! Is this another trick?"

"It's me. Uh, what are you doing here?"

"Us? What are _you_ doing here?"

"Looking for you. You've been missing for days."

"So get us the hell out of here, then!" Beatrice cried.

"Let's go." Castiel reached out to teleport them, but he disappeared in a burst of static. Fred's face dropped and she looked around the set in horror, hoping he might be within the audience.

"Cas?" She whispered.

"No, no no no." The host tutted, shaking his head as though he was disappointed, "Mr Trickster does not like pretty boy angels." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a second card, "Dean Winchester!" He spoke again in Japanese and like the first time, finished with, "countdown!"

"What do I do? _What do I do_?" Dean fretted as the clock behind him started to count down from twenty.

"What?" Sam said.

"I don't wanna get hit in the nuts!"

"I don't know! I.. I.. uh.. just, uh.. wait!"

"What?"

"I played a Doctor!"

"_What_?"

"In uh, in Dr Sexy, I played a doctor. I operated."

"So?"

"So I played the role the trickster wanted me to play. Maybe we should just go along with it."

"Go along with _what_?"

"With the game!" Beatrice burst out, suddenly understanding, "you know, we're on a game show, right? So just answer the question!"

"In Japanese?" Dean stared at her like she'd lost her mind.

"Yes!"

"I don't know Japanese!"

"Try!"

"Dammit!" Dean's fist flew out and he hit the button, pausing the timer. He hesitated, then said something in Japanese. The host repeated the last few syllables, and so did Dean, and then the host cheered loudly. Dean braced himself but instead, confetti rained from the ceiling, showering the four of them.

"Dean Winchester, nutcracker champion!"

"How did you do that?" Sam asked.

Dean forced a smile to the crowd. "I have no idea."

"So that's it," Fred said, "we play our roles, we survive."

"Yeah. But play our roles for how long?"

"Good question."

_ "I've got genital herpes."_

_ "I've got genital herpes."_

"Seriously?" Sam looked over at Dean, Beatrice and Fred. Fred and Beatrice were doing a fairly impressive job at hiding their laughter. Dean, however, wasn't doing so well and he shrugged, a large grin on his face.

"Hey, you're the one who said 'play our roles'."

"Yeah. Right." Sam sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I've.. got genital herpes."

_ "I try to be responsible."_

_ "Did I try."_

"But now I take twice-daily Herpexia to reduce my chances of passing it on."

_ "Ask your doctor about using Herpexia."_

"I am doing all I can to slightly lessen the spread of genital herpes. And that's a good thing."

_ We now return to 'Supernatural'!_

"Son of a bitch!"

A laugh and applause track played while Beatrice and Fred glared at Dean and Sam moved towards the beautiful, bikini clad woman who had just emerged from the bedroom. Sam approached her, gently taking her arm and guiding her back to the front door, "uh, I am really, really, very sorry but uh, we've got some work to do!"

"But we did do work!" The woman insisted, "_in depth_."

Beatrice closed the door with a wave of her hand. "How long do we have to keep doing this?" Fred said quietly, finally putting down the book. Beatrice noticed it was a big, cheesy looking joke book.

"I don't know. Maybe forever," Beatrice said back, "we might die in here."

There was laughter from the audience. Fred's eyes narrowed. "How was that funny? Vultures." The door opened again and Beatrice expected it to be the woman but instead, Castiel stumbled in. His face was a little bruised, but he was otherwise okay. Fred ran to him before he disappeared again. "You okay?" She fretted. He shook his head.

"I don't have much time."

"What happened?"

"I got out."

"From where?"

"Listen to me. Something is not right, this thing is much more powerful than it should be."

"What thing? The trickster?" Beatrice said, getting up as well.

"If it is a trickster."

"What do you mean?"

Castiel was thrown into the wall suddenly and the trickster himself came into the room to the delight of the audience who cheered and clapped for him. "Hello! Thank you, thank you ladies." The trickster cooed. Castiel lifted up his head. His mouth had been duct taped shut. "Hi, Castiel!"

The trickster clicked his fingers and Cas disappeared. "You know him?" Sam asked, the same time Fred demanded, "where did you send him?"

"Relax, he'll live. Maybe."

Fred started towards the trickster but Beatrice froze her so she was only able to move her head. "Let me go Beatrice or I swear to god-" She started to threaten her but the trickster interrupted her.

"Ah ah, cool it hothead, or you'll see what I can do with a vat of acid."

That shut her up. The spell faded and Fred stepped back, seething, but otherwise under control. "Alright, you know what?" Dean snarled, "I am done with the monkey dance, okay? We get it."

"Yeah? Get what?"

"Playing our roles, right? That's your game?"

"That's half the game."

Beatrice raised an eyebrow. "What's the other half?"

"Play your roles out there."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean demanded.

"Oh, you know. Sam starring as Lucifer! Dean starring as Michael! Your celebrity death match. _Play your roles_."

"You want us to say yes to those sons of bitches?" Sam said in disbelief.

"Hell yeah. Let's light this candle!"

"We do that, the world will end."

"Yeah? And whose fault is that? Who popped Lucifer out of the box? Hm? Look, it's started. _You_ started it. It can't be stopped! So let's get it over with!"

"Heaven or hell, which side are you on?" Beatrice asked, trying to keep her cool.

"I'm not on either side."

"Yeah right." She scoffed, "you're grabbing ankle for Michael or Lucifer. Which one is it?"

"You listen to me, you arrogant bitch. I don't work for either of those S.O.B's. Believe me."

"Oh, you're somebody's bitch." Fred smirked.

The trickster grabbed her suddenly by the collar, slamming her into a wall. "Don't you ever, _ever_ presume to know what I am. Here's what's gonna happen," he released Fred, letting her drop, breathless, to the ground, "you're gonna suck it up. Accept your responsibilities, and play the roles that destiny has chosen for you."

"And if we don't?"

A smile reached the trickster's face. "Then you'll stay here. In TV land, forever. Three hundred channel's and uh, nothing's on."

It was nightfall. A man was laid on the ground, stomach torn open as cops milled about, ducking under police tape and inspecting the corpse. Sam, Dean, Fred and Beatrice approached. "Oh, come on," Dean mumbled grumpily. An officer joined them by the body, kneeling down by the man.

"So, what do you think?" The cop asked.

"What do I think? I think go screw yourself. _That's_what I think." Fred snapped.

"Uh, could you give us a minute please? Thanks." Sam said awkwardly. He turned to Fred, "you gotta calm down." He told her. Fred laughed bitterly, snatching a pair of sunglasses from her face.

"Calm down? I am wearing sunglasses. At night! You now who does that? No-talent douche bags. I hate this game. I hate that we're in a procedural cop show and you wanna know why? Because I have procedural cop shows! There's like a hundred of them on television and they're all the freaking same. It's, 'ooh, plane crashed here!' Oh, shut up."

"Hey." Beatrice said softly.

"What?"

"Check out sweet tooth over there."

Dean peered over her shoulder to see a cop sucking on a red lollipop. He turned back to the other three, "you think that's him?" He asked, one eyebrow raised.

Sam nodded, slipping his sunglasses back on his face. "Just.. follow my lead."

"You uh, you okay?" The officer asked as they approached.

"Yeah," Fred said, "what do we got?"

The officer knelt beside the body, "well, aside from the ligature marks around his neck, he has what appears to be a roll of quarters jammed down his throat."

"Well, I say.. jackpot." Sam said and Beatrice had to stifle a laugh.

The officer snorted in amusement. "Also, there is a stab wound to the lower abdomen."

"Well I say.. no guts no glory." Dean joined in.

"Get that guy a tums," Beatrice said as Dean sneakily picked up a stick and moved behind the officer.

"Gutterball." Fred agreed.

"Good one, guys!" The officer laughed as Dean came behind him and stabbed the stick between his ribs, piercing his heart. The officer collapsed to the floor, struggling for a moment to breathe before his body stilled. No one else seemed to notice except one cop, who was laughing delightedly at them.

"You've got the wrong guy, idiots." The cop said as he morphed into the trickster.

"Did we?" Beatrice threw her hand up and the trickster flew backwards, impaled on a tree branch. There was a sudden burst of static and when it faded, the four of them were back in the warehouse.

Beatrice slid the toothbrush back into the little cup, spitting in the sink and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "I'm worried, baby," she called back to Sam in the bedroom, "what that son of a bitch did to Cas. You know, where he is?" There was no response and she lifted her head, bewildered. "Sam?" She stepped into the room which was empty. "Where are you?"

Throwing on her jacket, she dialed Sam's number on her phone and went out into the parking lot towards the Impala. The phone didn't even ring once before it went straight to Sam's answering machine. "It's Sam, leave me a message!"

"Sam, it's me. Where did you go?" She hung up the phone and got into the car.

"Bea?"

Everyone froze. That was Sam's voice but it sounded.. wrong. Metallic, almost, and more distant. She couldn't place where it had come from. Beatrice peered through the car windows. The Impala was empty. "Sam?" She said. "Where are you?"

"I don't know."

That was when Beatrice spotted a little red light on the radio that flashed whenever Sam spoke. She stared at it, face blank as she tried to work out whether the hell she was dreaming or not. "Oh, crap." Sam said and the lights flashed again, "I don't think we killed the trickster."

Beatrice was quiet for a moment. "I'm.. I'm gonna go get Dean."

The 'Knight Rider' theme played loudly as Dean drove, so loudly it was actually hard for Beatrice to think. She was riding shotgun, her head leaning against the window while Fred sat in the back and tried her best not to laugh, which she actually felt very guilty about as Sam was, you know, a car. "Okay, stake didn't work," Dean said loudly over the theme tune, "so, what, this is another trick?"

"I don't know," Sam said, "maybe the stake didn't work because it's not a trickster."

"What do you mean?"

"You heard Cas. He said this thing was way too powerful to be a trickster."

"And did you notice the way he looked at Cas? Like he knew him."

"And how pissed he got when we brought up Michael and Lucifer." Fred said from the backseat. In the rear view mirror, Beatrice could see faint bruises on her neck from where the trickster had grabbed her and she felt a swell of rage. Fred was just shy of nineteen. She wasn't deserving of that.

"Son of a bitch!" Beatrice said suddenly, making Dean jump.

"What?"

"I think I know what we're dealing with."

While Dean rummaged through the trunk of the Impala, Beatrice leaned against the side of the car, sucking absently on a cigarette. Fred was flicking through John's journal, but found nothing and put it on the backseat. "Dean?" Sam said. Beatrice jumped. She'd almost forgotten about Sam's situation.

"What?" The older Winchester asked, picking something up from the trunk.

"That, uh, feels really uncomfortable." Sam said awkwardly. Dean rolled his eyes and slammed the trunk closed. "Ow! Fred, are you sure this is gonna work?"

Fred looked a little sheepish. "No. But I have no other ideas."

She looked over at Dean expectantly and he sighed, throwing up his arms and calling out to the sky, "alright, you son of a bitch! Uncle! We'll do it!"

"Should I honk?" Sam asked uncertainly.

The trickster appeared beside Beatrice, resting his elbow on her shoulder. She scoffed, disgusted, side stepping away from him. "Wow, Sam," he grinned, "get a load of the rims on you!"

"Eat me."

"Okay, kids. Ready to go quietly?"

"Whoa, whoa whoa. Not so fast. Nobody's going anywhere until Sam has opposable thumbs." Beatrice cut in with a glare.

"What's the difference? Satan's gonna be riding his ass one way or another," the trickster smiled nastily at her, but her expression didn't falter so he rolled his eyes and clicked his fingers. The red lights disappeared from the Impala and Sam stepped out of the back seat, looking a little bedraggled, but unhurt. "Happy?"

"Tell me one thing. Why didn't the stake kill you?" Beatrice asked.

"I am the trickster."

"Or maybe you're not." Fred lifted up a match, "maybe you've always been an angel." She threw down the flame and a ring of holy fire encircled the trickster. Fred saw the little light go out in his eyes but that infuriating smirk never left his face. He even had the audacity to laugh a little.

"A what? Somebody slip a mickey in your milkshake, kid?"

"I'll tell you what. You jump out of the holy fire, and we'll call it our mistake."

The trickster laughed again, then stopped as he realized he had finally been caught out. Slowly, the trickster's face fell. There was a burst of static and the four were back in the warehouse, for real this time. He clapped slowly. Sarcastically. "Well played. Well played. Where'd you get the holy oil?"

"Well, you might say we pulled it outta Sam's ass," Dean said sarcastically.

"Where'd I screw up?"

"You didn't," Sam answered, "nobody gets the jump on Cas like you did."

"Mostly it was just the way you talked about Armageddon." Beatrice added.

"Meaning?"

"Well, call it personal experience, but nobody gets that angry unless they're talking about their own family. So, which one are you? Grumpy, sneezy, or douchey?"

"Gabriel, okay? They call me Gabriel."

"Gabriel?" Fred said in disbelief, "the archangel?"

"Guilty."

"Okay, Gabriel," Dean said slowly, "how does an archangel become a trickster?"

"My own private witness protection. I skipped out of heaven, had a face transplant, carved out my own little corner of the world. Until you four screwed it all up."

"What did Daddy said when you ran off and joined the pagans?"

"Daddy doesn't say anything about anything."

"Then what happened?" Beatrice asked, "why'd you ditch?"

"Do you blame him?" Dean scoffed, "I mean, his brothers are heavyweight douchenozzles."

"Shut your cakehole," Gabriel snarled, "you don't know anything about my family. I love my father, my brothers. Love them. But watching them turn on each other? Tear at each other's throats? I couldn't bear it, okay? So I left. And now, it's happening all over again."

"Then help us stop it." Sam pleaded.

"It can't be stopped."

"You wanna see the end of the world?" Fred asked.

"I want it to be over! I have to sit back and watch my own brothers kill each other thanks to you four. Heaven, Hell, I don't care who wins! I just want it to be _over_."

"It doesn't have to be like that! There has to be some way to pull the plug."

Gabriel laughed. "You do not know my family. What you guys call the apocalypse, I used to call Sunday dinner. That's why there's no stopping this. Because it isn't about a war. It's about two brothers that loved each other, and betrayed each other." He turned to the Winchesters, "you think you'd be able to relate."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked but the fight was gone from his voice. Beatrice could tell just by looking at him that he knew exactly what Gabriel was referring to.

"You sorry sons of bitches," the archangel laughed bitterly, "why do you think you two are the vessels? Think about it. Michael, the big brother, loyal to an absent father. And Lucifer, the little brother, rebellious of Daddy's plan. You were born to this, boys, it's your destiny! It was always you! As it is in heaven, so it must be on Earth. One brother has to kill the other."

"What the hell are you saying?" Dean snarled.

"Why do you think I've always taken such an interest in you? Because from the moment dad flipped the lights around here, we knew it was all gonna end with you. Always."

"No," Dean said, "that's not gonna happen."

"I'm sorry. But it is," Gabriel sighed heavily, "guys, I wish this were a TV show. Easy answers, endings wrapped up in a bow.. but this is real. And it's gonna end bloody for all of us. That's just how it's gotta be. So, now what? We stare at each other for the rest of eternity?"

"Well, first of all, you're gonna bring Cas back from wherever you stashed him," Fred said in her most threatening voice.

"Oh, am I?"

"Yeah. Or we're gonna dunk you in some holy oil and deep fry ourselves an archangel. What was that you were saying earlier about a vat of acid, hm?"

Gabriel glared at her, but clicked his fingers and the dark haired angel appeared beside her. Fred looked visibly relieved and she slid her hand into his. He held on tightly. "Cas, you okay?" She asked. He nodded.

"I'm fine. Hello, Gabriel."

"Hey, bro. How's the search for Daddy going? Let me guess. Awful."

"Okay, we're out of here. Come on," Dean said.

"Uh. Okay. Guys?" Gabriel called after them hopelessly. "So.. so what? Huh? You're just gonna.. you're just gonna leave me here forever?" Fred could sense the desperation in his voice and she stopped in the doorway, turning back to face him with a bitter smile.

"No we're not. Because we don't screw with people the way you do. And for the record, this isn't about some prize fight between two brothers, or some destiny that can't be stopped. This is about you being too afraid to stand up to your family." Fred pulled the fire alarm and the sprinklers activated, extinguishing the fire. "Don't say I never did anything for you."

"All that stuff he was spouting in there, do you think he believed it?" Beatrice asked.

"I think he believed it." Sam nodded.

"So what do we do now?"

"I don't know."

"Well, I'll tell you one thing," Beatrice said, sliding her arms around her boyfriend's waist and looking up at him, "right about now I wish I was back in a TV show."

Sam smiled sadly. "Yeah. Me too."

"So.. you're the one who found the bodies?" Fred asked, looking up from her notes. The girl nodded. She was dressed casually, in sweats, and with her long hair piled into a messy bun. She looked normal, but her eyes were haunted. It was actually sort of chilling.

"There was blood everywhere. And.. other stuff. I think Alice was already dead."

"But Russel wasn't?"

"I think he was, mostly, except.. he was still sort of.. chewing a little."

"Oh. Uh huh."

"How do two people even do that? Eat each other to death?"

"That's a really good question." Fred admitted, a little lost herself, "now, the last few days, did you notice her acting erratically?" The girl stared back at her, bewildered.

"How do you mean?"

"I mean.. did she seem unusually hostile, aggressive?"

"No way. Alice never drank, never even swore. She was a nice girl. And I'm talking.. a nice girl. Like, she still had her promise ring, if you know what I mean?" The girl shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. Fred raised an eyebrow.

"She was a virgin?"

"No premarital. I used to wonder how she did it. I mean, you know, didn't do it. It was her first date in months. She was so excited." The girl looked off wistfully, thinking of her parted friend.

"Apparently they were both pretty excited."

Fred stepped into the motel room, rubbing her eyes tiredly with one hand while the other carried a large bag of fast food. "How'd it go?" Dean asked her as she went into the room. Fred sighed and shrugged, setting the bag down on the table. Dean immediately moved over to it, digging hungrily through the bag.

"Um.. no EMF, no sulfur. Ghost possession and demonic possession are both probably out."

"Hmm," Beatrice said, looking up from her book, "that's where I was putting my money."

"Nope."

"Well, then what, then?" Dean said through a mouthful of cheeseburger, "oh, Freddy, at the coroner's, you didn't see these bodies. I mean, those two started eating, a-and, they just.. kept going. I mean, there stomachs were full. Like.. thanksgiving dinner full. Talk about codependent."

"Well," Sam cut in, "I mean, we got our feelers out. Not much more we can do tonight. Alright, I'm just gonna go through some files. You can go ahead and get going."

Dean looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "Sorry?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Go ahead. Unleash the Kraken. See you tomorrow morning."

"Where am I going?"

"Dean," Beatrice laughed, catching on, "it's Valentine's day. Your favorite holiday, remember? I mean, what do you always call it? Uh, 'unattached drifter Christmas'?"

"Oh. Yeah, well.. be that as it may, I don't know. Guess I'm not feeling it this year."

"So you're not into bars full of lonely women?"

"Nah, I guess not." Dean took a long drink of beer, then noticed everyone in the room was staring at him. He wriggled uncomfortable in his seat. "Ahh, what?"

"That's when a dog doesn't eat," Fred said, "that's when you know something's really wrong."

"Remarkably patronizing concern duly noted. Nothing's wrong. We gonna work or not?"

"Agent Marley, you just can't stay away." The doctor smiled at Fred, who smiled back, albeit a little more awkwardly.

"Heard you tagged another double suicide."

"Well, I just finished closing them up."

"Dr Corman," Fred said, gesturing to Beatrice, "this is my partner, special agent Cliff."

"Agent Cliff. I've just finished my prelims, I pulled the organ sets and sent off the tox samples." Dr Corman went on, acknowledging Beatrice as she held up her own, fake, FBI badge.

"Great." Beatrice smiled, "you mind if we take a look at the bodies?"

"Not at all. But like I said, their.. good and plenties are already tupperwared."

Beatrice forced a smile. "Super."

"Leave the keys with Marty up front. And please, ladies, refrigerate after opening."

The doctor left them alone in the mortuary. Beatrice opened up the twin drawers, which contained two bodies, a man and a woman. Both their heads were blown out and beside their bodies were little plastic tubs of organs. Fred grimaced, holding up one of the hearts. "Hey," she said, "be my valentine?"

Beatrice laughed, then stopped as she spotted something on the heart which she carefully took from Fred. "Wait a second. These hearts both have identical marks. Check this out, it looks like some kind of letter.. oh, no." Her face fell and Fred peered at her curiously.

"What?"

"I think it's Enochian."

"You mean like.. angel scratches? So you think it's like the tagging on our ribs?"

"I don't know."

"Ah, hell." Fred slipped her phone from her breast pocket and dialed Castiel's number. "Cas, it's Fred. Yeah, room 31-c, basement level, St James Medical center." She'd hardly finished speaking before the angel appeared, inches from her own face. Fred stared at him, expression blank as Beatrice tried not to laugh.

"I'm there now." Castiel told her, not lowering the phone.

"Yeah. I get that."

"I'm gonna hang up now."

"Right."

Castiel hung up the phone and reached past Fred to take the heart from Beatrice. "You're right, Beatrice," he nodded, "these are angelic marks. I imagine you'll find similar marks on the other couples' hearts as well."

"So, what are they?" Beatrice asked, "I mean, what do they mean?"

"It's a mark of union," Castiel explained, setting the heart down, "this man and woman were intended to mate."

"Okay, but who put them there?"

"Well, your people call them 'Cupid'."

"A what?"

"What human myth has mistaken for 'Cupid' is actually a lower order of angel. Technically it's a cherub. Third class."

"Cherub?"

"Yeah. They're all over the world, there are dozens of them."

"You mean the little flying fat kid in diapers?" Beatrice stared at him incredulously.

"They're not incontinent."

"Okay, anyway," Fred cut in, "so what you're saying-"

"What I'm saying is a Cupid has gone rogue and we have to stop him, before he kills again." Castiel explained. Fred and Beatrice exchanged a tired look.

"Naturally."

"Of course we do."

Fred sat opposite Beatrice and Sam at the restaurant. She was sandwiched in between Dean and Castiel, and envied the space they occupied. The waitress brought over the food, and Dean finally broke the silence. "So, what," he said, "you just happen to know Cupid likes the cosmos at this place?"

"This place is a nexus of human reproduction. It's exactly the kind of garden the Cupid will come to to pollinate." He watched as Dean squirted ketchup on his burger, then hesitated and put it back down.

Beatrice stared at the older Winchester like he'd lost his mind. "Wait a minute. You're not hungry?"

"No. What? I'm not hungry." Dean defended himself.

"Then you're not gonna finish that?" Castiel eagerly took the burger from its paper wrapping, looking over towards a couple in a separate part of the restaurant, "there."

Fred followed his gaze. "You mean the same-side-of-the-booth couple over there?"

Castiel got up, brushing the crumbs from his jacket. "Meet me in the back."

As he disappeared, the remaining four exchanged looks, then got up and moved collectively to the store room at the back of the restaurant where Castiel was already waiting for them. "Cas, where is he?" Sam asked.

"I have him tethered. _Zoda kama mahrana_. Manifest yourself!"

Nothing happened. "So where is he?" Fred asked, as Cupid appeared as a large, naked man and engulfed the tiny girl in a large hug. "Oof!"

"Here I am!"

"Help!" Fred wheezed, wiggling helplessly in Cupid's embrace.

"Oh, help is on the way. Yes it is, yes it is! Hello, you!" He dropped Fred and moved over to Castiel. He wrapped his arms around the angel's middle and lifted him, swinging him a little bit back and forth.

"This is Cupid?" Beatrice said, staring at the man.

"Yes."

"And look at you, huh?" Cupid dropped Castiel and turned on Sam.

"No."

"Yes! Yes, yes yes!"

"Is this a fight?" Fred fretted, "are we in a fight?"

"This is.. their handshake." Castiel explained.

"I don't like it."

"No one likes it."

When Cupid was done with Sam, Dean and Beatrice he turned to face everyone, "mm, what can I do for you?" He said cheerfully and for a second Fred almost felt bad about having to interrogate him.

"Why are you doing this?" Castiel challenged.

"Doing what?"

"Your targets, the ones you've marked, they're slaughtering each other?"

Cupid's face fell and his lip wobbled. "What? They are?"

"Listen, birthday suit," Dean said fiercely, "we know, okay? We know you been flittin' around, popping people with your poison arrow, making them murder each other!"

"You think that I.. well uh.. I don't now what to say." Cupid turned away, starting to cry.

"Should.. should somebody maybe.. go talk to him?" Sam suggested awkwardly.

"Yeah. That's a good idea," Beatrice clapped Castiel on the shoulder, "give 'em hell, Cas."

Castiel shot them a look, approaching the weeping Cupid who he patted awkwardly on the shoulder. "Um.. look.. we didn't mean to um.. hurt your feelings."

The Cupid whirled around, embracing Castiel in a second tight hug. "Love is more than a word to me, you know? I love love. I love it! And if that's wrong, I don't wanna be right."

"Yes, yes. Of course. I uh.. I have no idea what you're saying."

"I was just on my appointed rounds," Cupid explained, "whatever my targets do after that, that's nothing to do with me. I.. I was just following my orders. Please brother. Read my mind. Read my mind; you'll see!"

Castiel closed his eyes for a moment as he read Cupid's thoughts. "He's telling the truth."

"Jiminy Christmas. Thank you."

"Wait, wait," Dean interrupted, "you said.. you said you were just following orders?"

"Mm hm."

"Whose orders?"

"Whose? Heaven, silly!"

"Why does heaven care if Harry meets Sally?" Beatrice asked.

"Oh, mostly they don't. You know, certain bloodlines, certain destinies.. oh, like yours!" He turned to Sam and Dean who both looked at him blankly. Sam was the first to speak.

"What?"

"Yeah, the union of John and Mary Winchester. Very dig deal upstairs, top priority arrangement."

"Are you saying you fixed up our parents?" Dean said.

"Well, not me, but.. yeah. Well, it wasn't easy, either. Ooh, they couldn't stand each other at first. But when we were done with them.. perfect couple!"

"Perfect?"

"Yeah."

"They're dead!"

"I'm sorry, but.. the orders were very clear. You and Sam needed to be born. Your parents were just, uh, meant to be. A match made in Heaven. Heaven!" Cupid sang. Dean stared at him for a moment, then reared back and punched the angel hard in the face.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean yelled as Cupid disappeared. "Where is he? Where'd he go?"

"I believe you upset him." Castiel said calmly.

"_Upset_ him?"

"Dean, enough!" Beatrice yelled.

"What?"

"You just punched a Cupid!"

"I punched a dick."

"Um, are we gonna talk about what's been up with you lately, or not?" Sam snapped.

"Or not."

"You said you wanted to hear about any other weird ones." Dr Corman said, raising an eyebrow at Fred who nodded. He pulled out a gurney and she grimaced at the corpse who's stomach was completely blown out. "Lester Finch. Pulled his records. Looks like this gentlemen used to weigh 400 pounds or so, until he got a gastric bypass, which brought down his weight considerably. But then for some reason, last night, he decided to go on a twinkie binge."

"So.. he died from a_twinkie_binge?"

"Well, after he blew out the band around his stomach, he filled it up until it burst. When he could no longer swallow, he started jamming the cakes down his gullet with a.. with a toilet brush, like he was ramrodding a canon." The doctor explained as he covered the body back up with a sheet. Fred winced.

"What do you make of it?" She asked, leaning back against the wall. Dr Corman shrugged and Fred noticed how he took out a little silver flask from his breast pocket and drank heartily from it before answering her.

"I'd say that it was a very peculiar thing to do."

Fred watched him go and she pulled out her phone, dialing Beatrice's number. "Hey, so uh, this was not marked by Cupid, but his death is definitely suspicious." She told the older girl.

"Yeah, well I just went through the police blotter, and including him, that's eight suicides since Wednesday and nineteen OD's, that's way out of the seasonal batting average." Fred heard Beatrice sigh on the other end of the phone.

"Yeah. If there's a pattern here, it ain't just love. It's a hell of a lot bigger than we thought."

"Yeah, alright. I'll see you in 10."

"Yeah, okay."

Fred hung up the phone and went into the reception where Sam was waiting for her. "Was that Bea?" He asked as he spotted her slipping her phone back into her pocket. She nodded. Sam sighed, rubbing his forehead like he had a headache. "We were going to get married." He said softly. Fred didn't answer. "I wanted to marry her before the world went to shit. I guess now it's too late."

"She really loves you, Sam," Fred assured him, "more than anything."

"Maybe she did." Sam nodded, "but not now. Not after what I did."

Fred didn't know what to say to that so she just nodded. Sam spotted someone across the street, someone that looked perfectly normal to Fred but he took off after him into an alleyway, leaving her stood awkwardly outside the hospital until he returned. There was blood smudged over his face and he carried the briefcase that had belonged to the man.

"What the hell?" Fred questioned him, one eyebrow raised.

Sam wiped the blood from his face with his sleep. He only spoke one word in a voice that sent chills down Fred's spine, "demon."

"What the hell does a demon got to do with all this anyway?" Dean said, staring at the briefcase that lay untouched on the table. Sam shrugged.

"Believe me, I got no idea." He said.

Beatrice had been watching him for the past few minutes. Something seemed.. off, something no one else had picked up on. "You okay?" She asked, and Sam looked at her, eyebrows raised like her concern was misplaced.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be alright."

Dean was still staring at the briefcase. "Let's crack her open. What's the worst that could happen right?" He reached out and unclipped the briefcase and a bright, white light escaped. "What the hell was that?"

"It's a human soul." Castiel explained through a mouthful of burger. He had a large bacon cheeseburger in one hand and on his lap, he had Fred, who he'd insisted should sit there, surprising everyone as the angel wasn't known for his grand displays of affection. "It's starting to make sense."

"What about that makes sense?" Fred asked, playing with his hair. "And when did you start eating?"

"Exactly. My hunger, it's a clue, actually."

"For what?"

"This town is not suffering from a love-gone-wrong effect. It's suffering from hunger. Starvation, to be exact. Specifically, famine." The angel said.

"Famine?" Sam said, "as.. as in the horseman?"

"Great. That's.. that's freaking great." Dean exclaimed.

"I thought famine meant like.. starvation. As in, you know, food." Beatrice said.

"Yes. Absolutely. But not just food. I mean, everyone seems to be starving for something. Sex, attention, drugs, love.." Cas went on, tucking into his second burger.

"Well, that explains the puppy-lovers Cupid shot up." Dean muttered.

"Right. The cherub made them crave love, and then famine came, and made them rabid for it."

"Okay. But what about you? I mean, since when do angels secretly hunger for white castle?"

"It's my vessel. Jimmy. His uh, appetite for red meat has been touched by famine's effect."

"So famine just rolls into town and everyone goes crazy?"

"_And then will come famine, riding on a black steed_," Castiel quoted, "_and great will be the horseman's hunger, for he_ is_hunger_. _His hunger will seep out and poison the air_. Famine is hungry. He must devour the souls of his victims."

"So, that's what was in the briefcase?" Fred asked, "the twinkie guy's soul?"

"Lucifer has sent his demons to care for famine, to feed him, make certain he'll be ready."

"Ready for what?"

"To march across the land."

"Famine?" Fred asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes." Cas nodded.

"So, what? This whole town is just gonna eat, drink and screw itself to death?"

"We should stop it."

"Yeah, that's a great idea. How?" Dean said sarcastically.

"How did you stop the last horseman you met?" Castiel said, pushing his empty food tray away and looking up at the oldest Winchester brother expectantly. Fred noticed that Sam and Beatrice were absent and for a moment was worried they were somewhere succumbing to famine but through a crack in the bathroom door she could see Sam by the sink, trembling and gripping the sides with Beatrice sat on the edge of the bath, carefully pressing a cool washcloth to his neck to calm him down.

"War go his mojo from this ring," Dean went on, oblivious, "after we cut it off, he just tucked tail and ran. And everybody that was affected, it was like they woe up out of a dream. You think Famine's got a class ring, too?"

"I know he does."

"Well, okay. Let's track him down and get to chopping."

"Yeah."

"What are you, the Hamburglar?"

"I've developed a taste for ground beef."

"Well, have you even tried to stop it?" Dean said tiredly.

"I'm angel. I can stop anytime I want."

"Whatever. Sam, Bea, let's roll." He called into the bathroom.

Sam hesitated for a moment before he answered. "Dean, I, um.. I can't. I can't go."

"What do you mean?"

"I think it got to me, Dean. I think I'm hungry for it."

"Hungry for _what_?"

"You know."

"Demon blood?"

Sam hung his head, fighting back tears but Beatrice placed her hand gently on the small of his back and just for a second, he felt calm. "You've got to be kidding me!" Dean said, exasperated.

"You've got to get him out of here, Cas," Beatrice pleaded from inside the bathroom, "you've got to beam him to like, Montana. Anywhere but here."

"It won't work. He's already infected. The hunger is just gonna travel with him."

"Well then what do we do?" Fred asked.

"You go cut that bastard's finger off." Sam said. Dean nodded.

"You heard him." The older Winchester said to Cas.

"But.. Dean.. before you go, you better.. you better lock me down," Sam said quietly. His voice was filled with shame, "but good."

Dean went into the bathroom and handcuffed Sam to the sink pipe. "Alright, well, just hang in there. We'll be back as soon as we can." He assured him. Sam smiled weakly.

"Be careful. And.. hurry."

Beatrice and Dean left him in the bathroom, which Castiel blocked with a large cabinet. Beatrice turned to the motel door, but hesitated and hung back. "Bea? You okay?" Dean asked her, noticing her caution.

"I'm staying." She decided finally, "I'm not leaving him, Dean."

"You sure? You know they're gonna come looking for him."

"He's chained to a pipe, Dean. I need to be here to protect him when they do."

Dean nodded slowly. "Take care of yourself."

"Yeah. You too."

Beatrice watched as Dean, Fred and Castiel left the motel, leaving her alone. She locked the door and sat back on the bed, conjuring and extinguishing a small flame a few times before she grew bored and lay back, reaching for one of Sam's flannels which she held tightly. "Bea?" He whimpered from inside the bathroom.

Beatrice sat up. "Yeah, baby?"

"I.. I need it, Bea. I need it."

Beatrice chewed her lip. "No, Sammy. I'm sorry."

"Beatrice!" His voice rose to a scream and she flinched, closing her eyes. "Beatrice, I need it. I need it! _I need it_!" He was chanting, his words becoming incoherent and she let out a little sob, pressing her hands over her ears. She didn't know how much more she could take of this.

The door burst open. Beatrice shot up from the bed, her hands thrown up as she readied herself to attack but the demon was faster and it flung her against the wall. She hit her head and slumped to the ground but recovered quickly, getting shakily to her feet. "You won't touch him." She warned.

"Boss says we can't kill him," the male demon sneered, "didn't say nothing 'bout the witch, though. You ever tasted witch before?" He asked his two companions, who shook their heads.

"Him first." The female demon insisted. The first rolled his eyes.

"Always so good to Daddy's rules," he taunted her, "alright, fine. Grab her."

Beatrice made a dash for the door but the third demon, the biggest, grabbed her before she made it there and threw her onto her to the ground, holding her arms behind her back. She screamed, her shoulder dislocating but he only pulled harder. "Bea?" Sam yelled from inside the bathroom. "Bea!"

The first demon moved the cabinet with a lazy wave of his hand and he and the female moved into the bathroom. "Look at this," she said in a sickeningly sweet voice, "someone trussed you up for us. I bet we can break off a few pieces."

The male demon reached down, snapping the handcuffs. He wasn't expecting Sam to knock him back forcefully against the shower wall. Sam lunged at the female demon, pulling her back into the bedroom and throwing her down onto the glass table which shattered. Beatrice struggled violently under the biggest demon's grip.

"Sammy!" She cried, "Sammy, don't!"

Sam ignored her. He picked up a shard of glass from the floor and slit the demon's throat, attaching his lips to the wound and drinking thirstily. Beatrice went limp, the fight leaving her as she watched on in horror. The female demon screamed, drumming her heels against the ground. "Get him off! Get him off!"

The third demon lifted his knee from Beatrice's back and tried to pull Sam away, but he didn't move. He tried again, hitting him with a piece of the table leg but Sam turned, raising his hand and telekinetically throwing him across the room. "Wait your turn."

The final demon raced in from the bathroom as Beatrice found her feet and with her good arm, she levitated him, taunting him just for a second before his head exploded and black smoke escaped through the vent at the top of the room. Beatrice whirled on Sam, concentrating all of her energy on pulling him away. He struggled violently against the spell, thrashing against the air and for a second, she nearly lost him.

"Sam, enough!" She yelled.

"You think this is _enough_?" He spat and Beatrice watched, mortified as he gained control of his limbs and the spell faded. He lifted his own hand and her feet left the ground. She was suspended, helpless, in mid air as he drained the female demon, and turned on the third. When he was done, he let the creature drop dead to the ground.

Sam's powers faded and Beatrice collapsed on the carpet in a heap, her leg broken, and she sobbed. Sam moved to her and he crouched beside her, his touch gentle on her face as he brushed back her hair but Beatrice flinched, crawling away from him. "Don't touch me!" She cried.

"Bea.." He trailed off, looking hopelessly at the woman he loves as she sobbed and pulled away from him. He tried again, but she curled away, hiding her face behind her hands.

"Stay away from me, you.. you fucking psycho!"

"Okay. Okay." Sam got to his feet and backed up towards the door. He thought to himself, as he left her there in a heap, that it was the hardest thing he had ever had to do.

Beatrice didn't know what went down at the diner. She didn't care. All she knew was that Famine was dead. The others had found her at the motel room, still crying and trying to piece together what had happened. Cas had healed her leg and her shoulder, and Dean had convinced her to sit in the same car as Sam without killing him. Now at Bobby's, she sat with the older man, shakily sipping tea with a blanket round her shoulders. Bobby was saying something to her but she hardly heard. Sam's screams from the panic room drowned everything else out.

"That's not him in there." Castiel said, sitting beside her. "Not really."

"I know." Beatrice whispered.

"Beatrice.. Sam just has to get it out of his system. Then he'll be-"

"Listen, I just, uh.. I just need to get some air." Leaving the tea on the coffee table, she rushed out to the scrapyard where she couldn't hear the screams anymore. Castiel just watched her go.

The Impala rolled up outside the hotel. A slew of rain slashed at the glass of the windows and the three occupants raced into the hotel and spilled into the lobby, wet and grumpy. "Whew," Dean said, looking around, "nice digs for once. Busy night."

"Any port in a storm, I guess," the attendant at the desk smiled charmingly at them, "if you could just fill this out, please. Sir, I think.. shaving nick there." He motioned to a spot of blood on Dean's neck and handed him a tissue and a key. "Your key."

"Oh, thanks. Hey, you wouldn't happen to have a coffee shop, would you?" He asked hopefully.

"Buffet. All you can eat, best pie in the tri-state area."

"You don't say?"

The three went into a large dining hall where Sam, Fred and Beatrice slid into a booth and Dean rushed to the long table that was filled with different selections of pies and other food. "Does this seem at all strange to you?" Sam asked. Beatrice ignored him. He tried to rest his hand on her thigh under the table but she pulled away from him, glaring.

"Bea-" He started, but she held up a hand and the words died in his throat. He wasn't sure if it was a spell or the guilt that stopped him.

"Don't," she said quietly, "just don't."

The two sat in awkward silence until Dean finally returned, his plate piled high with pie. "Guys, unpucker," he said through a mouthful of pastry, "eat something."

"We should hit the road, Dean." Beatrice sighed.

"In this storm? It's-"

"It's biblical. Exactly, it's Noah's ark out there and we're eating _pie_."

"How many hours of sleep did you get this week? What? Three, four? Bobby's got his feelers out, oay? We have talked with every hoodoo man and root woman in 12 states."

"Yeah. Well, I'm not giving up."

"Nobody's giving up. Especially me. We're gonna find a way to beat the devil, okay? Soon. I can feel it. And we will find Cas, we'll find Adam, we'll find Freddy. But you are no good to me burnt out."

"We shouldn't have let Fred take off on her own." Beatrice said softly.

"Yeah, probably not. But she wanted to find Cas. It wasn't our place to tell her not to. Come on, we've actually got the night off for once. Let's try to enjoy it." Dean said.

As the three made their way through the corridors, Beatrice almost bumped into a couple making out in front of their room. Dean grinned when they turned a corner. "Oh, what are you? Twelve?" Sam scoffed.

Dean shrugged and unlocked he door, "I'm young at heart. Wow, look at this! We're like Rockefellers. Chocolates! You want yours?"

"Knock yourself out."

"Whoa. Casa Erotica thirteen on demand." Dean said and Beatrice scoffed. "What?"

"Isn't this place kind of in the middle of nowhere?"

"So?"

"So what's a four star hotel doing on a no star highway?"

Dean shrugged and disappeared into the bathroom to take a shower, leaving Sam and Beatrice alone. She sat down on the bed, slinging her bag onto the floor and refusing to look at him. "Bea." He said. She didn't react, so he sighed and tried again, "Beatrice!" He rose his voice a little and slowly, she lifted her head, looking blankly at him.

She seemed to hesitate, and he was hopeful she might forgive him. But instead, she said, "don't speak to me like that," and went straight back to unpacking her bag.

Sam deflated. Tears sprung to his eyes and he ran his hand through his hair, frustrated. "What do you want me to do?" He cried, "is there a single thing I can say that will make this better?"

Beatrice closed her eyes for a second, taking in a deep breath. Slowly, she got to her feet. "The day I found out about Ruby, no, not even then.. the day Dean came home, that should have been the day I walked away." Beatrice slid the ring from her finger and held it out to him. "I can't wait for you anymore, Sam. I've waited long enough."

"No," he sobbed, "Bea, please. Please don't do this. I.. I need you."

Beatrice hesitated, but shook her head. "I'm sorry."

She turned to go but there was a loud crash from the room next to their own and she stopped, turning to look at the wall as it shook. Sam wiped his eyes and followed her out to the corridor. She opened the door, looked in and found it empty, but spotted a silver engagement ring on the floor. She looked at Sam, who shrugged, and they went down into the lobby where the same attendant was working the desk. "The uh, the room next to ours, the couple that are uh, joined at the lips. Have you seen them?" She asked.

"Mr and Mrs Logan, the honeymooners? They checked out. Is something the matter?"

"They checked out?" Sam challenged him.

"Mmhmm. Just now."

"Really? It sort of seemed like they were, uh.. in the middle of something."

"Yeah," Beatrice affirmed, "it's kind of weird for honeymooners to uh, check out without this." She held up the engagement ring which the attendant took from her and slipped into his pocket.

"Oh, dear. I'll just put that right in the lost and found. Don't you worry. Is there anything else I can help you with?" He asked brightly.

"Uh, no. We're good."

"Super fantastic!"

The two shuffled back into the corridors. "Creepy." Sam muttered.

"Broke the needle. Alright, well I'll get Dean and scope out the joint, and you keep an eye on Norman Bates over here. I mean, one night off. Is that too much to ask?" She groaned and turned back to the elevator to get back to their room on the second floor. Sam grabbed her arm and she froze.

"Bea, I.. I'm sorry."

"I know."

Beatrice rode the elevator up to the second floor, slipping out an EMF detector as she made her way back to the room. She passed a room with its door wide open and inside, Beatrice would later swear up and down she saw an elephant wearing a towel. She stopped, staring into the room but instead, there was just a man wrapping a towel around his waist. "This ain't no peep show, lady!"

"Oh, uh, sorry?" Beatrice struggled to defend herself and moved on. There was a stinging sensation on her neck and she lifted her fingers, flinching. They came away red. "Okay, what the hell?" She mumbled. Shaking her head, she returned to the room where Dean was finishing dressing after his shower.

"Where did you go?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Long story. We were right, by the way. Appears we've stumbled into the hotel from the shining. Sam's keeping an eye on the attendant."

"What's going on with you and Sam?"

Beatrice's confidence faltered and she sighed, dropping her head. "I look at him and I see what he did. What he has the power to become."

"It wasn't him, Bea."

"You think I don't know that?" She snapped, then sighed and shook her head, "I'm sorry, I just.. I don't know who he is anymore, Dean. He was everything to me and now I feel like everything's just going to shit and I'm losing the man I love." Tears rolled down her cheeks and Dean pulled her into a hug.

"You could never lose Sam, you know that. But Bea.. Within a month, we could be dead. Do you really want to spend your last month with him like that? You were going to marry him."

Beatrice let out a sob. "I gave him the ring back."

"Oh, Bea.." Dean held her a little tighter. "Talk to him, Sweetheart. Please. You know you'll regret it if you don't."

Beatrice nodded. "I know."

"Then what are you so afraid of?"

"An elephant?" Sam asked dubiously. Beatrice nodded.

"Yeah."

"Like.. an _elephant_?"

"Like, full on Babar."

Sam shook his head, resting his hands on his hips. "So what the hell is.." Sam trailed off, looking around the lobby. The lounge music still played from hidden speakers but the hotel was abandoned. "Where is everybody?" He tried to pull the doors open, but they wouldn't budge.

"Let me guess," Dean said tiredly, "it's locked. So, what? The roaches check in, they don't check out?"

"Think about how we got here," Beatrice attempted to rationalize, "that detour on the I-90? The hurricane?" She threw up her hands, exasperated.

"You saying we were led here?"

Sam smiled bitterly. "Like rats in a maze."

Beatrice sighed, rubbing her temples. "Alright, there has to be something.." She trailed off, looking over to the dining hall. "The kitchen!" She said excitedly and sprinted around the tables, leaving the brothers to jog after her. She threw open the doors to the kitchen and sauntered in, spotting a pot of red liquid boiling on a stove. She wrinkled her nose, lifting the ladle with a lazy flick of her wrist. "Please be tomato soup. Please be tomato soup."

It was not tomato soup.

Beatrice grimaced at the eyeballs that floated to the top of the mixture and she let the ladle drop back into the pot with a splash. Sam went over to the locked freezer, and seconds later the other guests at the hotel flocked to the other side of the door, banging and pleading to be let out.

"Hurry up!" Dean insisted, seeing Sam fumble with the lock.

"I'm going as fast as I.. as I can."

The people in the freezer started to scream suddenly, backing away from the door in terror. Beatrice froze, not daring to turn around. "There's somebody behind us, isn't there"

Beatrice watched the paintings whiz by her head as she was dragged backwards down a corridor. She'd given up fighting, and Sam had stopped pleading for her to be let go. She thought that was pretty good of him, all things considered, but it was fruitless anyway. "Something tells me this isn't a Shriner convention." Dean grumbled as the trio were thrown into a ballroom and the doors were locked behind them.

"Dinner is served." The desk attendant announced and the room burst into applause.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a smartly dressed man said, "our guests of honor have arrived."

Dean looked over to Beatrice. "Any time you want to cast a spell to get us out of here.." He said quietly, looking at her expectantly. Beatrice shrugged helplessly.

"They've blocked my magic." She whispered back.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming." The smartly dressed man went on. He was either oblivious to Dean and Beatrice plotting or he didn't care. "Although, in all my centuries, I never thought I'd see this. This many Gods under one roof. Now, before we get down to brass tacks, some ground rules. No slaughtering each other. Curb your wrath. Oh, and uh, keep your hands off the local virgins. We're trying to keep a low profile here."

Sam, Dean and Beatrice exchanged a look. "Oh, we are so.. so screwed."

"Now, we all now why we're here," the man continued, "the Judeo-Christian apocalypse looms over us. I know we've all had our little disagreements in the past. The times has come to put those aside and look toward the future, because if we don't, we don't have one. Now we do have two very valuable bargaining chips; Michael and Lucifer's vessels. The question is, what do we do now? Anybody have any bright ideas? Speak up. This is a safe room."

"What do we do? We kill them!" One of the seated Gods said angrily. He spoke in a language Beatrice didn't recognize but she found she was able to understand him perfectly.

"Kill em'?" The man from earlier who had appeared to Beatrice as an elephant scoffed, "what, so the angels can bring them back again?"

"I don't know what everybody' getting so worked up about," an older, bearded man laughed cheerfully, "because it's just a couple of angels having a slap fight! There's no Armageddon. Everybody knows when the world comes to an end, the great serpent Jormungandr rises up, and I myself will be eaten by a big wolf."

"Here we go.." The first man said in the foreign language.

"Oh yeah? And why is that? Because your beliefs are so much more realistic? The whole world's getting carried around on the back of a giant turtle? Ha! Give me a break."

"Don't mock my world turtle."

"What are you gonna do about it?"

"I'm gonna send you packing to Valhalla!"

"You watch your mouth when you talk to me, boy."

"Boy? I'm older than you!"

"No one's ever proved that."

As the two men continued to bicker, Beatrice, Dean and Sam slowly moved from their seats and back to the doors, hoping not to be noticed, but a large chandelier fell from the ceiling and crashed to the ground, inches from where they stood. "Stay." A pretty woman, (Beatrice recognized her from earlier in the dining hall), said in a silky smooth voice before turning back to the other Gods, "we have to fight. The archangels, the only thing they understand is violence. This ends in blood. There is no other way, it's them, or us."

"With all due respect, ma'am," the attendant spoke up, "we haven't even tried talking to them."

Blood bubbled up between his lips and his hands flew to his throat as he choked on the liquid. The suited man rose from his seat. "Kali!"

The woman's gaze shifted from the attendant and the life returned to his face. "Who asked you?" She said to the smartly dressed man coolly, but her eyes burned with fire.

The doors burst open behind them and Gabriel burst in, not wearing a name tag like the others, and instead wearing a shit eating grin that made Beatrice want to punch him more than she usually did. "Can't we all just get along!" He said good naturedly. "Sam, Dean, Beatrice.. it's always wrong place, worst time with you mutton heads, huh?"

"Loki." The suited man snapped.

"Baldur. Good seeing you too. I guess my invitation got lost in the mail."

"Why are you here?"

"To talk about the elephant in the room." At Gabriel's words the elephant-man, who Beatrice realized was Ganesh, started to stand, indignant, but Gabriel held a hand up towards him. "Not you. The apocalypse. We can't stop it, gang. But first things first," he turned to the trio, "the adults need to have a little conversation. Check you later."

He snapped his fingers and Beatrice found herself back in the motel room. "Okay.. did that.. holy crap!" She exclaimed, struggling to articulate what the hell had happened.

"Yeah, tell me about it." Sam mumbled, then turned to Dean, "by the way, next time I say 'let's keep driving', uh, let's keep driving."

"Okay." Dean said, stunned, "yeah. Next time."

"Alright. So what's our next move?"

"I.. I.. I don't know." Dean admitted, "grab those poor saps outta the freezer, I guess? Bust 'em out? Gank a few freaks along the way if we're lucky?"

"And when are you ever lucky?" Gabriel said, appearing behind Beatrice who almost jumped out of her skin. He smirked at her, resting his elbow on her shoulder and she jerked away from him.

"Well you know what, bite me Gabriel." Dean snapped.

"Maybe later, big boy."

"I shouldn't known. I mean, this had your stink all over it from the jump."

"You think I'm behind this?" Gabriel said, holding his hand to his heart and feigning offence, "_please_. I'm the Costner to your Houston. I'm here to save your ass."

"You wanna pull us out of the fire?"

"Bingo! These guys are either gonna dust you, or use you as bait. Either way, you're uber boned."

"Wow. Because a couple of months ago, you were telling us that we need to play our roles. _You're_ uber boning us!"

"Oh, the end is still nigh," Gabriel said with a grin, "Michael and Lucifer are gonna dance the lambada, but not tonight. Not here."

"And why do you care?" Beatrice snapped.

"I don't care. But me and Kali, we uh, had a thing. Chick was all hands. What can I say? I'm sentimental."

"Do they have a chance? Against Satan?" Sam interrupted. Dean and Beatrice looked at each other, and then turned to Sam with the same look of disgust and disbelief.

"Really, Sam?" Dean said.

"You got a better idea Dean?"

"It's a bad idea," Gabriel affirmed, "Lucifer's gonna turn them into finger paint. So let's get going while the going's good, hm?"

"Okay. Great." Beatrice said, "why don't you just zap us outta here, then?"

"Would if I could, but Kali's got you by the short and curlies. It's a blood spell. You kids are on a leash."

"What does that mean?" Dean demanded.

"It means it's time for a bit of the old back magic." Gabriel sprayed his mouth with a mint spray.

"Okay, yeah." Beatrice sighed, "well, whatever. We're gonna tae the hors d'ouvres in the freezer with us."

"Forget it. It's gonna be hard enough sneaking you mooks outta here."

"They called you Loki, right?" She challenged him with a little, knowing smirk, "which means they don't really know who you are?"

"Told you. I'm in witness protection."

"Okay, well then how about you do what we say, or we tell the uh, legion of doom about your secret identity? They don't seem like a real pro angel kinda crowd."

"I'll take your voices away."

"We'll write it down."

"I'll cut off your hands."

"Well then. People are gonna be asking, 'why are you guys running around with no hands?'"

"Fine!"

Beatrice fumbled hastily with the lock, wiggling a bobby pin desperately. "Come on, come on.." She mumbled. The people inside the freezer started to scream and she turned just in time to see Zao Shen, the God who spoke in a foreign language, throw Sam and Dean across the room.

His fist closed around Beatrice's throat and he lifted her against the wall, choking her as she kicked out, desperate to find some leverage. Her fingers clawed desperately at his hand but he was stronger than her and she was starting to give up.

"Bea!" Sam yelled, but his voice felt far away, and her eyelids were drooping.. drooping.

The God dropped her. Beatrice collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath as she clutched her throat and tried to soothe the bruises that were sure to appear. Zao Shen was gone. Sam crouched in front of her, gently cupping her cheeks. The wooden stake he had used to murder the God was gone. "Whoa, whoa. Bea? Look at me, it's okay. You're okay."

Sam seemed to hesitate for a moment but then he wrapped his arms tightly around her, pushing his face against her shoulder. Beatrice considered struggling, considered grabbing that stake and finishing him off, but his touch was so warm and so familiar that she let him hold her.

Behind them, Dean stumbled to his feet. "Where the hell is Gabriel?"

The ballroom doors slammed behind them. For the second time that night, Beatrice found herself faced with a group of Gods. Gabriel was beside them. "How long have you known?" Hes said darkly to Kali who smiled and shrugged.

"Long enough."

"How's the rescue going?" Beatrice asked Gabriel sarcastically.

"Well, surprise surprise. The Trickster has tricked us." Kali went on.

"Kali. Don't."

"You're mine now. And you have something I want." She slipped her hand inside the archangel's inner pocket and slid out the angel blade. "An archangel's blade. From the archangel, Gabriel."

"Okay, okay! So I got wings, like Kotex. But that doesn't make me any less right about Lucifer."

"He's lying. He's a spy."

"I'm not a spy, I'm a runaway. I'm trying to _save_ you. I know by brother, Kali. He should scare the living crap out of you. You can't beat him, I've skipped ahead, seen how this story ends-"

"Your story, not ours. Westerners, I swear, the sheer arrogance! You think you're the only ones on earth? You pillage and you butcher in your God's name. But you're not the only religion and he's not the only God. And now you think you can just rip the planet apart? You're _wrong_. There are billions of us. And we were here first. If anyone gets to end this world, it's me. I'm sorry." Kali slid the angel blade into Gabriel's stomach and with a flash of light, he was dead.

Beatrice stared at the corpse, stunned. She couldn't believe it was over. Just like that. "This is crazy." The attendant, who Beatrice had learned was Mercury, mumbled.

"They can die. We can kill Lucifer."

"Alright, you primitive screwheads, listen up," Dean said suddenly, getting to his feet. Beatrice and Sam stared at him.

"Are you out of your _mind_?" Sam hissed.

"I'm outta options. Now, on any other given day, I'd be doing my damnedest to uh, kill you, you filthy, murdering chimps. But uh, hey, desperate times. So even though I'd love nothing better than to slit your throats, you dicks, I'm gonna help you. I'm gonna help you ice the devil. And then we can all get back to ganking each other, like normal. You want Lucifer, well, dude's not in the yellow pages. But me and Sam and Bea, we can get him here."

"How?" Kali said.

"First, you let those main courses go. Then we talk. We can either take on the devil together, or you lame ass bitches can eat me. Literally."

Beatrice didn't know why they trusted her more than Sam and Dean. She didn't have the greatest track record but then, she wasn't a fan of grand gestures and threats like Dean, and hadn't started an apocalypse like Sam. So she found herself in a parking lot, quickly ushering the other captives out of the hotel. "Come on, everybody! Let's go, let's go. Alright, go, go! Get outta here!"

"Psst, Beatrice," a voice hissed. Beatrice stopped, looking over at the Impala. Gabriel was in the back, the window rolled down just a little as he peered at her through the gap. "Don't look at me! Act natural, get in."

"Gabe, there is nothing natural about this at all. I thought you were dead."

"You think I'd give Kali my real sword? That thing can kill me!"

"Then what do they have in there?"

"A fake! Made it out of a can of diet orange slice. So uh, go snag our blood, would ya? You after a witch, after all."

"What?"

"I heard Dean in there, but Kali likes you. You can get close. Lift the plasma, then we vamoose."

"No. Hand over the real blade. Bette yet, why don't you sac up and help us take down Lucifer?" Beatrice challenged him but Gabriel scoffed.

"You can't be serious."

"Deadly."

"Since when are you butt buddies with a bunch of monsters? That's all they are to you, aren't they?"

"Alright, you know, Sam was right. It's nuts but it's the best idea I've heard so unless you have a better one?" She looked at him and for a moment, just a moment, he was quiet. Then he went right back to being a smart ass.

"Well, good luck with that. Me? I'm blowing Jonestown. Those lemmings wanna run of a cliff, that's their business."

"I see right through you. You know that? That smart ass shell, the whole 'I could give a crap' thing? Believe me, it takes one to know one."

"That so?"

"Yeah. And maybe those freaks in there aren't your blood, but they are your family."

"They just stabbed me in the friggin' heart!"

"Maybe. But you still give a crap about them, don't you?"

"Beatrice.."

"Now they're gonna die in there, without you."

"I can't kill my brother."

"Can't or won't? That's what I thought."

Scoffing at him, Beatrice turned on her heels and went back into the ballroom where the rest of the Gods, Sam, and Dean looked at her expectantly. "Show's over. Sword's a fake. I hate to bring it to you, sister, but you've been tricked."

The lights in the ballroom started to flicker and outside, there was a chorus of screams. Beatrice felt Sam's hand in hers and she didn't pull away. "What's happening?" Baldur demanded to know. Beatrice and the Winchesters exchanged a fearful look.

"It's him."

"How?" Kali said breathlessly.

"Does it matter?" Dean snapped, "shazzam us outta here, would ya?"

"We can't." Baldur said.

The doors burst open. Lucifer strode in in his temporary vessel and Beatrice felt Sam tense up beside her. _This is it_, she thought, _this is the end. And I didn't even get to say goodbye_. "Of course you can't," Lucifer smiled, "you didn't say 'mother, may I?' Sam, Dean, Beatrice. Good to see you again."

"Baldur, don't," Kali said in a low warning tone but the God had already stepped forward.

"You think you own the planet?" He challenged Lucifer, "what gives you the right?"

Lucifer looked at him pitifully, like a mother to her child, and he reached deep into Baldur's chest, twisting his hand deep inside his ribs until he was dead. He dropped the corpse and Kali snarled, engulfing her arms in fire which she flung in Lucifer's direction. Sam grabbed Beatrice and the two lunged for cover behind an overturned table. "Where's Dean?" Beatrice hissed, peeking over the table.

"Here." The older Winchester said on her left, slumping exhausted beside her.

"You okay?"

"Not really." Gabriel said and Beatrice nearly shot out of her skin. "Better late than never, huh?" He pressed a DVD copy of 'Casa Erotica thirteen' into her hands. "Guard this with your life."

Lucifer delivered a swift uppercut to Kali's jaw, knocking her back across the room. Gabriel winced. He made an attempt to stand, but Beatrice grabbed his arm, surprising him. "Don't do anything stupid." She warned him. He grinned at her and for the first time, it didn't annoy her at all.

"When have I ever?" He stepped over the table, unsheathing the sword from his sleeve. "Lucy, I'm home! Not this time." He bent down to help up Kali and turned to the trio, "guys, get her out of here."

"Over a girl, Gabriel, really? I mean, I knew you were slumming, but I hope you didn't catch anything."

"Lucifer, you're my brother. And I love you. But you are a great big back of dicks."

"Wait, what did you just say to me?"

"Look at yourself! Boo hoo. Daddy was mean to me so I'm gonna smash up all his toys."

"Watch your tone." Lucifer warned but Gabriel rolled his eyes.

"Play the victim all you want. But you and me? We know the truth. Dad loved you best. More than Michael, more than me. Then he brought the new baby home and you couldn't handle it. So this is all just one big temper tantrum. Time to grow up."

While Lucifer was distracted, Dean, Sam, Beatrice and Kali fled from the hotel into the parking lot. Kali stared distastefully at the Impala. "I'm not getting in that thing."

"Just get in the car, princess."

Beatrice got into the back seat beside the God, staring at the hotel, hoping Gabriel would win that fight but as they drove away, there was a flash of light and somehow, she knew he hadn't.

Beatrice sat uncomfortably on the motel bed between Sam and Dean, watching the introduction to the porn movie with a blank expression. "Gabriel wanted you to guard this with your life?" Sam asked. Beatrice shrugged and nodded.

"Maybe he's a fan."

The door in the movie opened and Gabriel appeared, wearing a fake mustache and a waiter's outfit. "_I've got the Kielbasa you ordered_."

"_Ooh, Polish_?" The porn actress asked.

"_Hungarian_." Gabriel threw the dish to one side and started to kiss the woman passionately. Beatrice and Sam exchanged a slightly disturbed glance.

"What the hell is going on?" The younger brother asked.

Gabriel looked up from kissing the young woman and tore off his mustache, facing the camera directly. "_Sam, Dean, my beloved Bea_," (she rolled her eyes at that), "_you're probably wondering what the hell is going on. Well, if you're watching this, I'm dead. Oh, please, stop sobbing. It's embarrassing for all of us. Without me, you've got zero shot at killing Lucifer, sorry! But you can trap him. The cage you sprang Lucifer from? It's still down there. And maybe, just maybe, you can shove his ass back in. Not that it'll be easy. You gotta get the cage open, trick my bro back into it. And uh, oh yeah, avoid Michael and the God Squad. But hey, details, right? And here's the big secret, Lucifer himself doesn't even know, the key to the cage? It's out there. Actually it's keys, plural. Four keys, well, four rings. From the Horsemen. You get 'em all, you got the cage. Can't say I'm betting on you kids, but uh, hey! I've been wrong before. And, Bea, you were right. I was afraid to stand up to my brother. Not any more. So this is me standing up, and this is me lying down_."

Gabriel threw the actress down onto the bed and started to make love to her, much to the disgust of Beatrice who slammed the laptop down hard. "Oh, God no."

"Horsemen, huh?" Dean said, still staring at the computer, "well, we got War's. We nicked Famine's. That's two down. Collect all four? All we need is Pestilence and Death."

"Oh, is that all?" Beatrice said sarcastically.

"It's a plan." Dean said tiredly. He got up and went into the bathroom, leaving Sam and Beatrice alone.

"Bea-" Sam started, but Beatrice cut him off.

"No, wait. Let me." She took a deep breath before she went on, "what happened back at the motel, it.. it wasn't your fault? Okay. I've spent much too long being angry about it when really, I should have understood. So.. Please. Don't apologize. I'm the one who should be sorry. We have the devil on our back and we're probably going to die, and I don't want to go out knowing that I never got one last chance to tell you I love you."

She avoided Sam's gaze throughout her speech and looked at him to see he had tears in his eyes. "Jesus, Bea. I love you. I love you so, so much."

He finally let out all of the emotions he'd been bottling up and Beatrice watched as he broke down in tears, hiding his face shamefully behind his hands. She wrapped her arms around him, cradling him like a baby as he rested his head on her shoulder and wept. "I.. I don't want to lose you." He cried.

"Sammy, listen to me," she said fiercely, "I'm not going anywhere. Not ever. Okay? _I love you_."

Beatrice just wished she believed that.

Sam and Beatrice sat on the hood of the Impala. He had his hand resting gently on her thigh and her fingers gripped his, too terrified to let go. Too terrified to lose the man she loved. She held a beer in her free hand but she hadn't opened it, and had instead let the condensation leak down the inside of her wrist. She could have dried it, but she didn't think she had the energy. A few more minutes of silence passed, and Dean joined them, leaning on the Impala and taking a beer from the cooler. "Hey." Sam said softly. His brother didn't reply. "Dean? What's going on?"

"I'm in." Dean said after a minute.

"In with..?"

"The whole 'up with Satan' thing. I'm on board."

"You're gonna let me say yes?"

"No. That's the thing. It's not on me to let you 'do' anything. You're a grown, well, overgrown, man. If this is what you want, I'll back your play."

"That's the last thing I ever thought you'd say."

"Might be. I'm not gonna lie to you, though. It goes against every fiber I got. I mean, truth is.. you know, watching out for you, it's kinda been my job. You know? But more than that, it's.. it's kinda who I am. You're not a kid anymore, Sam, and I can't keep treating you like one. Maybe I got to grow up a little too. I don't know if we got a snowball's chance, but.. but I do know that if anybody can do it, it's you."

"Thank you."

"If this is what you want.. is this really what you want?"

"I let him out. I got to put him back in."

"Okay. That's it, then."

Dean got up and went back inside, probably so Sam and Beatrice wouldn't see him cry. Beatrice's grip tightened on Sam's hand and when he looked, he saw tears rolling down her cheeks. "You really want to do this?" She said softly. Sam could hear the crack in her voice and it broke his heart.

"I do. I'm sorry, Sweetheart."

Beatrice rubbed her eyes with her sleeve, burying her face in Sam's shoulder. "We could have done it, you know," she whispered, "gotten out. Had a family, a home.. a life."

Sam smiled at the thought. "In another life, maybe."

Beatrice lifted her head up and kissed him. His hand fell to the back of her head and he laced his fingers into her hair, touching her for the last time. "Promise me," he muttered against her lips, "promise me you won't spend the rest of your life grieving me. Promise me you'll move on."

"I can't do that."

"Please, Bea. _Please_."

Beatrice hesitated, but then she nodded. She didn't mean it. "Okay."

Dean came racing out into the junkyard suddenly, breathless. His eyes were red and puffy but for his sake, Beatrice pretended not to notice. "Dean, what is it?" Sam asked, slightly apprehensive.

"It's Fred," he said, "she's home."

Sam and Beatrice exchanged a look before rushing into the house where Fred and Bobby were embracing tightly. Beatrice hugged her next. "Where did you go, Freddy?"

"Long story." She said softly, parting after a moment. She looked at Sam. "You look like hell."

Sam smiled bitterly. "You have no idea."

It was dark when the five of them headed towards Detroit. Dean drove, Sam sat in the back seat while Castiel slept on Fred's shoulder, and Beatrice stared out of the window, too numb to cry or do anything. "Aw, ain't he a little angel?" Dean said, looking at Fred and Castiel in the rear view mirror.

"Angels don't sleep." Beatrice said quietly. "Sam, I got a bad feeling about this."

"Well, you'd be cuts to have a good feeling about it." Sam said.

"You know what I mean. _Detroit_. He always said he'd jump your bones in Detroit. Here we are."

"Here we are."

"Maybe this is him rolling out the red carpet, you know? Maybe he knows something that we don't."

"Bea, I'm sure he knows a buttload we don't. We just got to hope he doesn't know about the rings. Hey, um, on the subject, there's something I need to talk to you all about." He looked anxiously between Dean and Beatrice, who looked particularly anxious at her boyfriend's statement.

"What?" Dean answered for both of them.

"This thing goes our way and I.. triple Lindy into that box, y-you know I'm not coming back."

"Yeah. I'm aware."

"So you got to promise me something."

"Okay. Yeah. Anything."

"You got to promise not to try to bring me back."

"No, I didn't sign up for that." Beatrice said from the back.

"Bea.."

"Your hell is gonna make our lives look like Graceland. You want me to just sit by and do nothing?"

"Once the cage is shut, you can't go poking at it, Beatrice. It's too risky."

"No. No, no no no. As if I'm just gonna let you rot in there."

"Yeah, you are. You don't have a choice.

"You can't ask me to do this." She pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Bea. You have to."

"So then what am I supposed to _do_?"

"You go and you be happy! You get yourself an apartment, and the dog you always wanted. A-And you're gonna meet a man, someone real nice, and you start a family with him and you be happy and let him give you everything I never could. You hear me, Beatrice Wells?"

Beatrice could barely speak for her sobs. "Winchester," she corrected him tearfully, "Beatrice Winchester."

Sam smiled sadly. "I always thought that had a better ring to it anyway."

The alleyway was freezing. Beatrice was wrapped up in Sam's jacket but it did nothing to keep out the chill. Bobby set down his binoculars and approached the little group. "Demons, at least two dozen of them," he said, "you were right. Something's up."

"More than something. He's here. I know it." Dean mumbled.

Dean went around the back of the Impala and Beatrice followed him, not yet ready to say goodbye. "He's gonna be okay, Bea." He tried to assure her. She didn't believe him and he knew it, but she appreciated the effort all the same. Dean saw the tears in her eyes and he pulled her to his chest, just for a moment, just to steady her breathing.

He led her back to the front of the car where Sam was talking to Fred and Castiel. "Take care of these guys, okay?" The younger Winchester said to the angel.

"That's not possible."

"Then humor me." Sam sighed.

"Oh. I was supposed to lie. Uh.. sure. They'll be fine."

"Just.. Just stop.. talking."

Sam turned to Fred and offered her a weak smile. "Look after Cas. He's gonna need you." He said.

"Believe me, I know."

"You're a good kid, Freddy. Take care of yourself."

"Always, Winchester."

Finally, Sam got to Beatrice. He held her tightly and she buried her face in his chest, trying her very best not to cry. She failed. "Whoa, hey Sweetheart, look at me," he said softly, gently tilting her head up, "don't you cry. You'll set me off and no one wants to see that, okay? You're gonna be just fine."

"Oh God, I'm going to miss you so much." She sniffled.

"I know. I'm going to miss you too, Baby." He kissed the top of her head and then her lips, letting the kiss linger for a moment before he parted from her. "I love you."

"I love you too, Sammy."

Sam waved a final goodbye to Fred, Castiel and Dean and went into the building, shortly followed b Dean and Beatrice. "Alright, we're here, you sons of bitches! Come and get it!" He yelled, holding his hands up as though surrendering, but Beatrice saw how he mocked the demons. How he despised them.

Three demons came into the reception, seething with rage at the presence of the Winchester brothers and Beatrice. "Hey, guys," Dean said, "is your father home?"

The demons snarled and lunged at the trio, dragging them up the stairs into a room where Lucifer was lingering by the window, smiling cheerfully at them. "Hey, guys. So nice of you to drop in. Sorry if it's a bit chilly. Most people think I burn hot. It's actually quite the opposite."

Beatrice smiled sarcastically. "Well I'll alert the media."

"Help me understand something, guys. I mean, stomping through my front door is.. a tad suicidal, don't you think?"

"We're not here to fight you." Sam said.

"No? Then why are you?"

"I want to say yes."

"Excuse me?"

Sam closed his eyes. The three demons dropped dead as the demon blood Sam had consumed earlier started to take effect. Lucifer watched him with a lazy smile. "Chock full of Ovaltine, are we?"

"You heard me. _Yes_."

"You're serious."

"Look, judgement day's a runaway train. We get it now. We just want off."

"Meaning?"

"Deal of the century. I give you a free ride, but when it's all over, I live, they live, you bring our parents back, and Bea's sister-"

"Okay, can we please drop the telenovela? I know you have the rings, Sam."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The Horsemen's rings? The magic keys to my cage? Ring a bell? Come on, Sam. I've never lied to you. You could at least pay me the same respect. It's okay, I'm not mad. A wrestling match inside your noggin, I like the idea. Just you and me, one round, no tricks. You win, you jump in the hole. I win.. well, then I win. What do you say, Sam? A fiddle of gold against your soul says I'm better than you."

Sam turned to Dean and Beatrice. "So he knows. Doesn't change anything."

Beatrice stared at him like he'd lost his mind. "Sam-"

"We don't have any other choice!"

"No!"

"_Yes_."

Lucifer closed his eyes and a bright white light emanated from him, filling the room and momentarily blinding Beatrice. When she opened her eyes again, Sam was on the floor and Dean was staring at him, hands trembling. "Dean?" She said, shaking his shoulder, "Dean, we have to act now."

Dean nodded shakily. He took the four rings from his pocket and threw them at the wall. "Bvtmon.. tabges.. babalon." He changed. A hole in the wall appeared and on the ground, Sam stirred.

"Sammy!" Beatrice cried.

"B.. Beatrice?"

"Sam!"

"I can feel him, oh, God."

"You got to go now, come on!" She pulled on Sam's arm urgently. "Go now, Sammy. Now!"

Sam walked towards the hole, but something wasn't right. "Oh my God." Beatrice grabbed Dean's arm, "Dean. Dean, it isn't him, it's not Sam!"

"What? How do you.." Dean trailed off. _Beatrice_. Sam never, ever used that name.

"I was just messing with you," Lucifer admitted, using Sam's voice, the same voice that had told Beatrice he loved her, "Sammy's long gone. Chdr bvtmon tabges babalon." The hole in the wall closed and he turned back to Beatrice and Dean, "I told you. This would always happen in Detroit."

He disappeared.

Beatrice was frozen. Her heart pounded against her sternum, so fiercely she was worried it might burst free. "Dean." She whispered. He didn't reply. "Dean, what now?"

"He.. he's gone." He stammered.

Beatrice vomited.

"_Reports are flooding in, a 7.6 earthquake in Portland, 8.1 in Boston, more in Hong Kong, Berlin and Tehran. The U.S.G.S has no explanation but says to expect a six figure death toll._"

Beatrice watched the news through the TV store window with a blank expression. Dean was beside her, gripping her hand, with Bobby on his other side, and Castiel and Fred on hers. "It's starting." Fred said softly. Dean shot her a glare.

"Yeah, you think, genius?"

"You don't have to be mean." Castiel berated him.

"So what do we do now?" Beatrice interrupted.

"I suggest we imbibe copious quantities of alcohol. Just wait for the inevitable blast wave."

" I mean how do we stop it?"

"We don't. Lucifer will meet Michael on the chosen field, and the battle of Armageddon begins."

"Okay, well, where is this chosen field?" Dean asked.

"I don't know." Castiel admitted.

"Well, there's gotta be something that we can do!"

"I'm sorry, Dean. This is over."

"You listen to me, you junkless sissy. We are not giving up!" Dean's words were so vicious Beatrice actually thought Castiel looked quite taken aback. Fred took the angel's hand and held it tightly. "Bobby?" Dean turned to the older man hopelessly. "Bobby?"

"There was never much hope to begin with. I don't now what to do."

Beatrice lingered by the Impala, the phone dead weight in her hand. "Mistress Magda?" The voice on the other end answered. Beatrice was quiet for a moment.

"Um. No. Chuck?"

"Oh, uh, Beatrice! Uh, wow, I uh.. I didn't know that you'd call."

"Who's Mistress Magda?"

"Nothing, she's a.. uh.. a.. just a uh.. a close friend."

"Yeah, I'll bet. Real close. Whatever happened to Becky?"

"Didn't work out. I had too much respect for her."

"Boy, you really got a whole virgin hooker thing going on, don't you?"

"Okay, this can't be why you called."

"Sam said yes." Beatrice had to fight back tears as she spoke.

"I know. I saw it," Chuck said after a minute, "I'm just working on the pages."

"Did you see where the title fight goes down?"

"The angels are keeping it top secret, very hush-hush."

"Aw. Crap."

"But, I saw it anyway. Perks of being a prophet. It's tomorrow, high noon. Place called Stull Cemetery."

"Stull ceme.. wait, I know that. That's.. that's an old boneyard outside of Lawrence. Why Lawrence?"

"I don't know. It has to end where it all started, I guess."

"Alright, Chuck. You know of any way to short circuit this thing?"

"Besides the rings? No. I'm sorry."

"Well. Do you have any idea what's gonna happen next?" There was an almost pleading, pitiful tone to Beatrice's voice and it broke Chuck's heart.

"I wish that I did. But I.. I just.. I honestly don't know yet."

"Alright. Thanks, Chuck."

Beatrice hung up. She moved to get into the driver's seat of the Impala but Bobby, Cas, Dean and Fred approached her before she could. "You goin' someplace? You're goin' to do somethin' stupid. You got that look." Bobby accused and she wished he was wrong.

"I'm going to talk to Sam." She admitted.

"You just don't give up."

"It's Sam!"

"If you couldn't reach him here, you're certainly not gonna be able to on the battlefield." Castiel affirmed but Beatrice wasn't willing to listen. That was her_Sammy_.

"Well, if we've already lost, I guess I got nothing to lose, right?"

"I just want you to understand. The only thing that you're gonna see out there is Michael killing your boyfriend."

"Well, then I ain't gonna let him die alone."

Beatrice reached for the door handle but Dean grabbed her wrist. "I'm coming with you."

"Dean-"

"Don't you dare argue with me, Bea. You're not doing this alone."

'Rock of Ages' by Def Leppard played deafeningly over the Impala speakers as Dean pulled into Stull cemetery. Beatrice was riding shotgun, and Dean noticed how she already looked dead. He wondered if there was a real motive for her coming to the cemetery. He pulled up into the middle of the cemetery and got out, slamming the door and leaning against the car, "howdy, boys," he called to Lucifer and Michael, "sorry. Are we interrupting something?"

Beatrice got out shortly after, refusing to look at Lucifer as he took the shape of her boyfriend. "We need to talk." She said, trying to sound more confident than she felt but her voice cracked.

"Beatrice. Dean. Even for you two, this is a whole new mountain of stupid." Lucifer sighed.

"I'm not talking to you," Beatrice said fiercely, "I'm talking to Sam."

"You're no longer the vessel, Dean. And Beatrice was never a part of this narrative. You got no right to be here." Michael snarled at the oldest Winchester. Looking at the archangel in that form hurt; in the form of his little half brother. His innocent little brother.

"Adam, if you're in there somewhere, I'm so sorry." Dean said.

"Adam isn't home right now."

"Well, then you're next on my list buttercup," Beatrice smiled sarcastically, "but right now, I need five minutes with him."

"You little maggot! You are no longer part of this story!"

"Hey, ass-butt!"

A voice came from behind them. Beatrice turned, bewildered, and saw Castiel, Bobby and Fred stood a little way of. Cas was holding a holy oil Molotov which he threw at Michael, who disappeared with a scream and burst of smoke. "Ass butt?" Fred said fondly at him, despite herself.

Cas shrugged and turned to Beatrice. "He'll be back, and upset, but you got your five minutes."

"Castiel," Lucifer said fiercely, "did you just Molotov my brother with holy fire?"

"Uh.. no?"

"No one dicks with Michael but me!"

Lucifer snapped his fingers and Castiel exploded in a shower of blood and chunky flesh. Fred froze. Her face was splashed with her soulmate's blood and she collapsed to her knees, resting her hand on the mess in complete shock. "C-Castiel?" She whispered. The shock faded and she started to scream, silenced only when Bobby grabbed her and pushed her face against his shoulder so she couldn't look anymore.

Beatrice stared in horror before turning to Lucifer. "S.. Sammy? Can you hear me?"

"You know, I tried to be nice, for Sammy's sake, but you are such a pain in my ass!" Lucifer threw Dean onto the windshield of the Impala which shattered, and turned on Beatrice but she was faster and threw her hands out, levitating him in mid air and throwing him a good few feet.

He got to his feet as quickly as he'd fallen and rushed at Beatrice. Bobby shot him twice in the back. Lucifer barely reacted, turning slowly and twisting his hand. Bobby's neck snapped. Dean cried out. "_No_!"

"Yes!"

Lucifer pinned Dean to the Impala and punched him hard in the face. He spat blood, struggling against the invisible force to get to his brother. He decided Dean was successfully subdued and turned on Beatrice, kicking her in the ribs and sending her flying to the ground. "Sammy!" She cried, "are you in there?"

"Oh, he's in here, alright. And he's gonna feel the snap of your bones." He punched Beatrice in the face, "every. single. one!" We're gonna take our time." He pulled Beatrice to her feet and punched her again.

Beatrice let out a sob, reaching out and grabbing Sam's shirt. "Sam, it's okay! It's okay, I'm here. I'm here. I'm not gonna leave you. I'm not gonna leave you!"

Lucifer drew back for another punch but he seemed to spot something in the Impala. He saw Dean, and Bobby, and Fred and finally, Beatrice, and the familiar sparkle returned to his eyes. Slowly, he let Beatrice back down onto her feet. "It's okay, Bea," he said softly, "it's gonna be okay. I've got him."

Sam reached into his pocket and took out the Horsemen's rings. He threw them onto the ground, chanting loudly. "Bvtmon tabges babalon!"

The ground caved in around them. As Michael reappeared, Sam looked to Beatrice one last time. "I love you." He called and took a step towards the hole.

"Sam!" Michael yelled, "it's not gonna end this way! Step back!"

"You're gonna have to make me."

"I have to fight my brother, Sam. Here and now, it's my destiny!"

Sam looked between Beatrice and Dean and in that moment, made a decision. He spread his arms, closing his eyes and leaning back on his heals. Michael grabbed Sam's shirt but Sam was quicker and grabbed his arm and the two tumbled back into the hole. It swallowed them up, closing behind them. Beatrice collapsed against the Impala.

Fred felt like she couldn't move. She was covered in gore and dirt, gore that had once been her boyfriend. Her _soulmate_. "You promised you'd never leave me." She whispered to no one in particular. A gentle hand rested on her shoulder and Fred's head snapped up to see her beautiful trench coated angel.

"It was a promise I intended to keep."

Fred clawed to her feet, falling into Castiel's arms. "I'm here," he promised her, "I love you."

He released her slowly, moving to Dean and Beatrice. They were both kneeling by the Impala, Beatrice sobbing on Dean's shoulder. The angel gave a hand to each of them, healing their wounds. "Cas, you're alive?" Dean said softly, looking up at the angel in a daze.

"I'm better than that."

"Cas, are you God?" Beatrice asked.

"That's a nice compliment. But no. Although, I do believe he brought me back. New and improved." He moved back to Bobby and touched him gently on the forehead, resurrecting him.

Beatrice looked down at the four rings in her hands until tears blurred her vision and she couldn't see anymore.

The Impala felt empty. Fred and Beatrice sat in the back while Cas road up front with Dean. It felt wrong. "What are you gonna do now?" Dean asked the angel.

"Return to heaven, I suppose."

"Heaven?"

"With Michael in the cage I'm sure it's total anarchy up there."

"So, what, you're the new sheriff in town?" Beatrice asked.

"I like that. Yeah, I suppose I am."

"Wow," Dean scoffed, "God gives you a brand new, shiny set of wings, and suddenly you're his bitch again."

"I don't now what God wants. I don't know if he'll ever return. It just.. seems like the right thing to do."

"Well, if you do see him, tell him I'm coming for him next."

"You're angry."

Beatrice scoffed. "That's an understatement."

"He helped, maybe even more than we realize."

"That's easy for you to say. He brought you back. But what about Sam? What about me, huh? Where's my grand prize? All I got is my boyfriend in a hole!"

"You got what you asked for, Beatrice. No paradise. No hell. Just more of the same. I mean it, Beatrice. What would you rather have? Peace or freedom?"

When Beatrice looked, Castiel was gone. "Well, you really suck at know that?" Fred mumbled. When Beatrice watched him disappear, and she couldn't help but wish she could do the same.


	6. Chapter 6

Season 6

Fred Beauregard scribbled furiously. The only sounds in the room were the scratching of pens and the distinct ticking of the clock above the teacher's desk. This was it. This was the biggest test of her school career, the test that would secure her a place on the course for the following year. Fred was going to be a doctor.

An argument broke out at the front of the room. Fred looked up, irritated at being interrupted, but stopped when she saw just what was going on. Castiel. "Sir, you need to leave!" Her professor was insisting, trying to herd the angel out of the door but he, of course, was having none of it.

"I don't think you understand," Castiel said calmly, "I must speak with Winifred Beauregard."

Every eye in the room turned to her and her cheeks flushed red. Sighing, Fred set down the pen and got up, shuffling awkwardly through the rows of people towards her angel boyfriend, though she didn't know if she could call him that anymore. He had abandoned her, left her alone when she needed him the most. "What is it, Cas?"

He reached out to touch her forehead and transport her elsewhere but she gently knocked his hand away, instead taking his wrist and pulling him out into the corridor. "This better be important, Castiel, or I swear to God-"

"Sam is alive."

"What?"

"Winifred there isn't much time. I need you t-"

"Whoa whoa, back the hell up. You abandon me for a whole year, and just when I'm starting to get my life together you wander back in and demand my help? It doesn't work like that, Castiel! You broke my heart!" She cried. The angel stared at her, blinked twice, and was gone. Fred cried out hopelessly. "Dammit!"

Winifred stormed into the house, slamming the door dramatically behind her. "Whoa, what's your problem?" A voice traveled to her through the open garage door and Dean came out, wiping his hands on an old dish rag.

"Castiel, that's my problem." Fred said fiercely.

Dean stared at her. "You're serious?"

She nodded. "Our little angel buddy thought it would be _hilarious_ to drop in mid-exam to tell me that Sam is alive!" She raged, then stopped when she saw Dean's sheepish expression. "Dean? Did… did you _know_?"

"Freddy…"

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" She threw up her hands in frustration, "doesn't anyone in this family ever tell the damn _truth_?"

"I wanted to tell you, I did, but…" Dean trailed off, "it just wasn't that easy."

Fred scraped her hand shakily through her curly hair, pushing it back from her eyes. "I can't believe you'd keep something like this from me, Dean," she grumbled, "have you spoken to Beatrice? Does she have any idea her fiance is back from the dead?"

Dean shook his head. "I've looked for her, but she must have changed her name. She's disappeared into thin air."

Fred looked incredulously at him. "You don't…" she swallowed hard, "you don't think she's dead, do you?"

Dean's eyes widened like he hadn't considered the possibility. "Beatrice? No. She's a smart girl, Fred. Smart girls don't just… die."

"I want to find her." Fred concluded, "I want to bring her home."

The street was abuzz with life. A group of school children brushed by her, excited to be almost home and the overwhelming smell of coffee hit her as she passed a French cafe. Dean wasn't picking up his phone. Fred didn't know why she was surprised.

"Come on, Dean," she mumbled, dialing his number a sixth time. That time, he answered.

"Freddy? Hi."

"This is hopeless," she said, exasperated, "I've been out here for two hours. And nothing! She can't have gone far, can she?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted, "she was devastated. She wanted to get out of America, too many memories. I think she felt haunted."

Fred didn't know what to say, so she sighed instead. "What do we do, Dean?"

"I don't know." He said again.

"I…" Fred trailed off, coming to a stop outside a sleazy jazz bar. "You know what? I think I just found her."

"Are you serious?"

"I'll call you back." Fred hung up and slipped the phone into her jacket pocket. The sandwich board outside the bar read 'Lily Monroe; performing here this afternoon!', but it was the image attached to the slogan that really caught her attention. It was Beatrice. Her hair was cut to her shoulders and bleached blonde, and she was a lot thinner but it was definitely her.

Fred threw open the door to the bar and went in.

"Black Velvet, if you please.." The note trailed off just as Fred entered and Beatrice took a long bow. Her red silk gown brushed elegantly against the ground and she smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. No one seemed to notice, and instead crude men threw money at her feet.

She started to leave the stage but Fred pushed her way through the audience, crying her name. Beatrice stopped, turning slowly and looking blankly into the crowd. "Fred?"

"Hi, Bea."

Beatrice looked anxiously towards the announcer who was mouthing angrily at her for staying on the stage for too long. The older girl hesitated, then grabbed Fred's arm and pulled her onto the stage and then back towards her dressing room.

She closed the door behind them and lingered awkwardly by her vanity mirror. "What are you doing here, Fred?"

"Looking for you," Fred said like it was obvious. She noticed a little orange pot of antidepressants on the vanity, and Beatrice saw her looking and knocked the pot quickly into a drawer.

"I realize that," Beatrice sighed, "but _why_?"

"Can't a girl visit her old friend?" Fred said but Beatrice looked completely unconvinced so she sighed and admitted, "Sam's alive, Beatrice."

Beatrice looked at her for a long time before she answered. "_What_?"

"Believe me, I'm just as shocked as you."

"How long have you known?" Beatrice spluttered.

"Not long."

Beatrice fell back into her chair. "Why couldn't he tell me all this himself?"

"I've not seen him," Fred said, "he's been to see Dean, though. I don't think Dean wants back into the life. But… I think I do, Bea. And I thought you might feel the same, especially now."

"It's not going to be that simple! I've made a life for myself here."

"You call this a _life_?" Fred scoffed, sounding much harsher than she intended to, "Beatrice, you're performing in a dirty club that's one pole away from being a strip joint, you're thinner than I've ever seen you and you're taking pills for god knows what reason. Please, we need you. Sam needs you, and dammit Bea, _I_ need you."

Tears filled Beatrice's eyes. "How long has he been back?" She asked, clenching her jaw to hold in a cry. Fred didn't say anything. "Fred, please, I have to know."

"Dean said he'd been back a year." Fred said quietly.

Beatrice let out a sob. "Why wouldn't he come for me?"

"M-Maybe he couldn't find you."

"How long did it take you to find me, Fred?"

"Two hours."

"Exactly, two hours. Meaning he didn't even look."

The door slammed shut behind them. Fred whirled around on her heels, startled, and Beatrice shot up from the chair, her eyes wide. Sam smiled weakly at her. "I wouldn't be so sure of that."

Beatrice was frozen. She stared at her fiance in the doorway, and Fred saw her clench her hands into fists at her side. Sam stared back at her for a second, and then managed a smile. "Surprise?" He offered. Beatrice launched at him. Her hand connected with his cheek and his face snapped to the side. "I deserved that."

"Yeah, you did!" She yelled, "what were you thinking? An entire _year_? You let me go on like this, thinking you were dead, for a damn year, Sam!"

"Beatrice, I can explain-"

"No, Sam, I don't think you can. Nothing you could possibly say will make any of this better." She turned away from him, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "I want you to leave."

"Beatrice-"

"Please, just go. You've done enough."

When Beatrice turned around, Sam was gone and she was alone with Fred in the dressing room. Tears came into her eyes before she could blink them back and she slumped into her chair, holding her head in her hands and letting out a strangled sob. "Why would he do that to me, Freddy?"

Fred crossed the room and tentatively placed a hand on the older girl's shoulder. "You.. you want me to call him back?"

"No! Yes... maybe! I don't know!"

"Bea, he loves you," Fred said carefully, not wanting to upset Beatrice any more, "and Sam, he.. he would have had a good reason. Maybe you should hear him out."

"I don't think I can." She whispered, "everything that happened.. maybe it's for the best that we stay apart. And this is really working out for me! I have a career now. And I have fans! Look at this," Beatrice paused to pull out her drawers and she thrust a handful of letters at Fred. "I'm working my way up, Fred. I don't want to give that up."

"I don't think I can go back into this without you." Fred said quietly.

"I'm sorry, Freddy."

Freddy was quiet for a long time before she turned and opened the door. Before she left, she stopped, looking back over her shoulder. "I'll tell Dean you send your regards."

"What do you mean she wouldn't come back?" Dean demanded.

"I mean exactly that! She probably would have done too if Sam didn't just.. show up!" Fred turned and ran a hand through her hair, frustrated, "I'm leaving, Dean. I'm going to call Sam and I'm going to start hunting again."

"_What_? To hell with that, Winifred. You're going nowhere."

Fred laughed but the sound was hollow. "Are you kidding me right now, Dean? I can't go on like this! Pretending like everything's okay, playing happy families and being some perfect student. It's killing me!" Fred spotted Dean's phone clenched in his hand, "just give me Sam's number, and I'll be on my way."

"Didn't you hear me? You're going nowhere!"

"Give me the damn phone, Dean!"

Fred made a grab for the phone but Dean was quicker and held it out of her reach. "Absolutely not."

"Give me the phone!"

"No!"

Fred made another reach for the phone and Dean grabbed her wrist, throwing her to the side. She stared at him, stunned, but then lunged. She shoved his shoulders, hard, and he stumbled but counteracted with his own push, slamming her up against the wall and pinning her there by her shoulders. The two stared at one another, neither one wanting to break the tense silence.

"Fred, if you go, if you walk out that door I don't want you to ever come back, you hear me?" Dean said finally, glaring in her face. Fred narrowed her eyes.

"Give. Me. The. Phone."

Dean's features creased with hurt and for a moment, he looked shocked, but the rage soon returned and he backed up, throwing the phone at her. "Fine."

Fred caught the phone, barely, and shouldered past Dean, storming out into the front yard where Sam was already waiting for her. "Hi, Sam," she said, surprised, slipping the phone into her back pocket.

"You need to see this."

She followed Sam out to the car which was parked opposite the house. "Is that..?"

"Yeah."

"Holy shit."

In the backseat, a small, sleeping baby was strapped into a car seat. It stirred as though it could sense Sam and Fred looking at it, but then fell straight back to sleep again. "Beatrice will be crushed." Fred said after a while, not quite wanting to meet Sam's gaze. He looked at her for a while.

"It isn't mine."

"Please tell me you didn't kidnap it."

"What? No!"

"Then what the hell is going on, Sam?"

Sam looked back to the house where Dean was watching them from the window. "I'll explain everything on the way. Just get in the car." He sighed. Fred looked at the baby, then back at Dean in the window. Sam raised an eyebrow. "He wouldn't come out, huh?" He said.

Fred hesitated, "I don't want to leave him, Sam."

"Go and talk him round. I'll wait here."

Fred smiled gratefully and took a deep breath, going back up to the house. Dean was in the doorway before she could even knock. "I don't know if I can do this, Freddy," he said softly and she saw tears come into his green eyes. She shrugged and bit her lip, glancing at Sam over her shoulder.

"We don't have much of a choice."

"You're right. I _know_ you're right." Dean rubbed his forehead, "no chance of Bea getting involved, huh?" Fred didn't say anything and he nodded, accepting it, "alright. One job," he promised her. Fred's face lit up. She hugged him, only briefly and then returned with him to the car. Dean peered into the back seat. "Oh."

By the time they reached the highway, the rain was pouring. Fred sat in the back with the baby, idly playing with his fingers as he snoozed. "Alright, so what do we know about this thing?" Dean asked Sam, who was sat quite comfortably behind the driver's seat. Sam shrugged.

"Well uh, it was fast and it freaked when I cut it with silver."

"Alright, so that narrows it down to..."

"A ghoul? A zombie, a shifter... or about a dozen other things."

"I don't recall seeing baby napping in the profiles." Fred said.

"Yeah. Exactly."

"Well, feel free to speak up if you know anything." Dean said darkly. Fred decided to pretend not to hear his tone.

The car started to beep suddenly and Sam looked over at his brother, "seatbelt."

"What am I, in third grade? A car should drive, not be a little bitch." Dean grumbled. The baby stirred in his car seat and started to cry. "Yeah, don't take it personal." He turned to Fred, "we need to get some supplies."

"I've got an arsenal in the trunk."

"Not that kind."

Sam slammed on the breaks suddenly. Fred flew forward in her seat, her hands grabbing mid air to break the fall. The baby screamed. Dean and Sam swore. Fred looked up, stunned from slamming her face into the back of Sam's seat to see what the hell had been the issue. There was a person in front of the car, there hands resting on the hood as they breathed heavily and looked directly through the wind shield. It took Fred a second to work out who it was.

"Beatrice."

Sam's features hardened and he got out of the car, forgetting to close the door behind him. "What the hell were you thinking?" He demanded. "You could have been killed!"

Beatrice stared at him for a moment, tears rolling down her cheeks and then she collapsed into his arms and he caught her. "Don't ever leave me again," she sobbed.

"Beatrice, look at me," he placed two fingers beneath her chin and gently tilted her head up, "I'm not going anywhere again, you hear me? I promise."

"I love you."

Sam smiled, resting his hand on her cheek. "I know."

"Alright, I'm pretty sure that there's some kind of paste or jelly you're supposed to put on their butt." Dean suggested awkwardly, looking around the grocery store as Beatrice pushed the little boy in the cart. Sam had his hand resting on the small of her back, guiding her, and she was secretly pleased with the small show of affection after such a long time apart.

"Like uh... like that?" Fred asked, picking a box off the shelf.

"Yeah, grab that." Dean affirmed.

While he spoke, Beatrice reached for a box of diapers and dropped them into the cart, "so how do you two know all this?" Sam asked, looking between Dean and Beatrice, who'd suddenly gone very quiet.

"Lisa has a baby niece, so I've been on a few milk runs," Dean answered. Beatrice didn't say anything, and Fred noticed, and made a mental note to question her later when the boys weren't around.

"Huh," Sam said.

"Shut it."

"I just said 'huh'."

"I just said 'shut it'."

In the cart, the baby started to cry, wriggling about in his seat, "alright, we gotta get moving," Beatrice interrupted, "we've got the waterworks in like, T-minus ten."

"Yeah. Okay."

"Go."

The four of them approached the checkout as the baby's cries got louder. Other customers were starting to glare and Dean shifted uncomfortably, lifting him out of the cart and trying desperately to soothe him. "Shh... sh... come on, hang in there, buddy. Hang in there man."

"Dean, make it stop," Fred mumbled as she piled groceries onto the conveyor belt.

"_How_?"

"Everyone's staring at us like we're child abusers. Feed it."

"We fed it!"

"Then what?"

"I don't know, you think I speak baby? Maybe he needs a diaper change."

"Oh, God. I hope not."

The baby continued to cry and Dean mimicked it, much to the amusement of Sam and Fred, but Beatrice gave him a gentle smack on the arm. A kindly looking woman approached them from another queue. "Aw, what's the matter?" She cooed, "what's his name?"

"Bobby," she said Dean, the same time Sam said, "John."

"Bobby John." Beatrice said quickly.

"Hi, Bobby John. Aren't you handsome? May I?" She held her arms out towards the baby and Dean looked uncomfortably at Fred but she took him before he could say otherwise. Fred noticed how rigid Beatrice had become. "I see now, Bobby John's a little wet. No offense, you four look exhausted. I don't mind. Lord knows I've changed a million diapers."

Beatrice looked over the woman's shoulders at the security camera and saw her eyes flare. Her heart seemed to miss a beat. "That's a really nice offer, thank you, but um, I think we've got it."

"Oh, it's nothing. Happy to help."

Beatrice leaned in, smiling bitterly, "give me the baby before I stab you in your neck."

"Beatrice!" Sam said sharply.

Beatrice looked at him like he was stupid and he suddenly realized what was happening the same time the woman did. She broke into a run with Bobby John in her arms and Beatrice took off after her, the rest of them following behind. She reached out and grabbed at her arm but her flesh melted away and Beatrice dropped it, grimacing. Fred knocked into the shifter and took the baby, running out with Sam and leaving Dean and Beatrice to deal with the shifter.

Beatrice pushed her to the ground and unsheathed her knife but the shifter started to scream. "Help me!"

"Hey!" A store manager started to approach.

"She's hurting me!"

"Get off of her!"

Dean pulled Beatrice off and the two raced towards the car where Fred was hastily buckling Bobby John into the back seat. "Go, go go go go go!" Dean yelled, diving into the front while Beatrice squeezed in between Fred and the car seat. As they sped away, the shifter watched them from the store entrance.

"The hell does a shifter want with a baby anyway?" Fred cried.

"You tell me," Sam said helplessly.

"And how the hell did it find us?"

"You know, it could have been following us this whole time. Since the baby's house."

"Alright, you know, we got to get off the road," Beatrice fretted, very out of breath, "get Bobby John someplace safe. Figure this thing out." She turned to the baby, who was still screaming, "okay, alright. Shh, shh. Easy, kid."

"Okay, alright, you know what? I'll pay you money if you sit still." Dean begged, struggling to change Bobby John's diaper as the little boy laid back on the motel bed. "This is like defusing an IED, with poop!" Beatrice smiled, endeared, and gently moved Dean to one side, finishing changing the baby with ease and then stepping aside to let Dean finish the job, to let him feel like he had accomplished something. "Alright, alright," he laughed, "you are golden, Bobby John. Time to hit the hay."

Dean lifted the baby and hummed 'Smoke on the Water', carrying him carefully to the small travel crib. "Dean, you're just going to make it cranky again," Sam teased.

Beatrice laughed, "I'm going to go grab some coffees," she said, getting up from the table and slinging her purse over her shoulder. As she reached the door, Fred jumped up.

"I'll come with you." She said quickly. Beatrice looked at her, confused by the urgency in her voice but let her follow her out to the vending machine on the corridor anyway. It took Fred a minute to work up the confidence to ask the question as Beatrice stabbed the numbers onto the dial. "So, how do you know so much about babies?"

Beatrice stopped, her hand hovering over the dial. "What?"

"You heard me."

"My... older sister had a baby."

"You didn't have an older sister. It was just you and Felicity."

Fred practically saw Beatrice deflate and when she turned around she had tears in her eyes. "You... you can't tell Sam," she said softly, practically pleading with Fred who nodded mutely so she went on. "When Sam died, I... I was pregnant. I was planning to tell him, but... I couldn't. I kept the baby but when she was a month old I couldn't cope anymore, and..." Beatrice trailed off and gave a little sob, and Fred rested her hand on her shoulder, encouraging her to go on so she did. "I gave her up for adoption."

"What was her name?"

"Leonora." She said, her voice barely a breath, "Leonora Mary."

"You should tell him, Bea."

Beatrice scoffed, wiping her eyes, "how can I? He'll be devastated. He'll think I'm weak."

"You were on your own! No one could have expected you to cope. You thought your fiance was dead, you had a baby.. I'm surprised you made it that far. Most people wouldn't have been able to."

"She's my baby. And I just abandoned her!"

"Beatrice, look at me," Fred said firmly, "you didn't abandon her. You did what was best for your daughter. You did what most others couldn't have done. And Sam would know that."

Beatrice took in a deep breath. "I will tell him, eventually. I promise. I just... I need time." Beatrice took the coffees from the machine and rushed back into the room before she started to cry again. Fred watched her go, wordlessly, and then joined her in the room where Sam was about to leave.

"What's going on?" Fred asked.

"A house on elm. The mother was killed, baby was grabbed, but daddy wasn't living in the house at the time so he's still alive." Sam explained quickly as he packed some supplies into his rucksack.

"I'll come with you." Beatrice said.

"I'll stay," Fred added.

She watched Beatrice and Sam leave and then cornered Dean. "Did you know about this?" She demanded. He stepped back, flustered by her sudden outburst.

"Know about what?"

Fred looked to the door, suddenly anxious that Beatrice and Sam might come back. "About the baby," she said in a hushed tone. Dean looked cluelessly at the crib.

"Is... is that meant to be a joke?"

"Not that baby, dumbass! _Beatrice and Sam's baby_."

"_What_?"

"Beatrice was pregnant when Sam went to hell. She gave the baby up for adoption a couple of months ago." She explained hastily. Dean just looked at her so she went on, "_Sam doesn't know_."

"We have to tell him!" Dean started towards his phone but Fred side stepped into his path.

"No! I promised Bea."

"Fred-"

"Dean, listen to me," Fred said angrily, "there's something wrong with Sam."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"When Castiel came back for me he seemed so urgent, and now I'm starting to regret turning him away. Sam is scaring me, Dean. I... I can't be around him."

Dean looked uneasily towards the door. "You think?"

"Yeah. I do." Fred nodded, "and I think we might all be in danger."

As Dean and Fred talked in hushed, anxious voices, the phone rang. The two of them exchanged a glance, and after a second the noise became unbearable and Fred got up to answer it. "Yeah?"

"I talked to the father." Sam said, "he checks out, but the baby..."

Fred looked over at the crib where Dean was stood, holding Bobby John at arm's length. There was blood and goo above the crib, and the baby in Dean's arms looked just like the baby on the diaper box. "Yeah." Fred said in a weak voice. Dean's skin had paled considerably.

"I think the shapeshifter is his dad."

"You think?"

In Dean's arms, Bobby John started to cry and there was loud banging on the door. Fred hung up the phone and slipped it into her pocket, terrified. "Dean." She whispered. Even Bobby John had quietened down. He raised a finger to his lips, but the man on the outside of the door yelled through anyway, almost like it could smell them inside.

"Manager! Everything okay in there?"

"Yeah, no we're fine. Thank you. Good night." Dean yelled back.

"There's been complaints. Mind opening the door, sir?"

"It's not a good time. Just got out of the shower."

The doorknob rattled. Dean placed Bobby John in the crib and he and Fred stood on either side of the door. It unlocked and a man entered. Bobby John started to scream again. Fred and Dean attacked him from either side but he pushed them both back with alarming strength. "Get out of the way," she shifter threatened them.

"Yeah, that's not going to happen," Fred snarled.

"That child should be with his father."

"Wow. I gotta be honest, I'm not really seeing the family resemblance."

The shifter scoffed, "I'm not just talking about me. I'm talking about our father."

The creature moved to attack her but Fred was quicker and slashed at his face with a silver knife. Though he cried out, he managed to grab Fred and he threw her to the ground. Dean rushed to intercept his attack but the door flew open behind them and two shots were fired. The shifter crumpled. Sam and Beatrice came in."Well, there goes our deposit." Beatrice mumbled.

Fred slept restlessly on Beatrice's shoulder as she sang softly to a resting Bobby John. "You know," Sam said from the front, "it's pretty smart, actually. I mean, shifter poses as a guard for the security company to get near the house. Then it scopes out the fam."

"Yeah, and then daddy takes off, and shifter becomes daddy. A few glasses of wine, shakes momma's trees, comes back in nine months to collect its prize."

"I didn't even know they had babies. I thought they were just freaks of nature, like, X-Men style."

"You learn something new every day, huh?"

"I've never seen a baby monster before."

Beatrice almost laughed at that. He had no idea. He never would. "It's not really a monster," she said, a little too defensively, thinking of her own daughter, half witch. Innocent. Someone who deserved better. "It's just a baby. It's not its fault its dad's a shifter." She added.

"Right, but it's a shifter too." Sam reminded her.

"Still doesn't change the fact that we've got to look after him. I mean, what the hell are we going to do with him? We can't actually drop him off at an orphanage. They might get upset when it turns Asian."

"Samuel."

"Who?"

"Samuel," Sam said again like that would mean anything to her, "he'll know what to do."

"You want to bring it to a bunch of hunters?" Dean cut in.

"Not just hunters, Dean. They're our family."

"We don't know them."

"_I _do. Not every hunter is a head case. I mean, Samuel is actually a lot like you."

"I'm a freaking head case."

"Well, pitch a better idea then," Sam said. No one said anything, so Sam grinned, "great! Samuel it is."

Beatrice didn't like it, and neither did Fred. Sam had explained everything about the Campbells, but neither of them liked it. Something about it made Beatrice uneasy and she lingered a little behind Dean in the compound, holding Bobby John defensively. She hardly knew this little boy, but she couldn't lose another baby. She couldn't.

"Well, aren't you just the best disguise a monster ever wore?" Gwen cooed, giving Bobby John a playful poke in his tummy. Beatrice tensed up, and Gwen noticed, "I'm kidding, Bea. Relax."

"Beatrice." She corrected her sharply. Mark shot her a look, so she turned on him, "what, you got something to say? No? Alright, well, you stand there and think at me." Fred sniggered at her and Dean glared at them both, willing them both to be quiet. He knew what kind of trouble they could get each other in.

Sam and Samuel came back in behind them. "What's our next move?" Sam asked his grandfather, clearly continuing whatever conversation they'd been having in the other room.

"I got a couple of ideas. Bea, let me see the little guy." Samuel said.

"_Beatrice_. I got him."

"What do you think I'm going to do?"

Beatrice laughed bitterly. "You really don't want me to answer that question."

"Well, I'm curious," Christian said, his voice a low, warning tone, "who exactly do you think we are?"

"Hunters." Dean added, coming to stand in solidarity beside Beatrice.

"Funny. Here I've been thinking we're family."

"Hey, let's not get worked up." Sam said. Beatrice glared at him, but said nothing. Christian did, though, which only infuriated her further and Dean placed a hand on her shoulder to calm her down.

"Yeah. Yeah, let's not." Christian said sarcastically.

"Here, Beatrice, it's fine," Sam said softly, "let me take him. It's okay."

Beatrice had never been able to resist Sam's gentle voice and she handed Bobby John over, no matter how hesitantly, and watched, feeling betrayed as he handed him to his grandfather. "Hey there. You're a big fella, aren't ya? Yeah, I haven't held one of these in a long time. Your mom was the tiniest. She was as bald as a cue ball." Samuel laughed.

"Alright," Dean said, refusing to be taken in, "so what the hell are we going to do with him?"

"Raise him."

That took Fred by surprise. "_Raise_ him?"

"What, you've got another suggestion?"

"But..." Fred trailed off.

"It's dangerous for him out there, Winifred."

"And what about in here?" Beatrice said angrily, tempted to take the baby back and raise him herself, "what, are... are we gonna study him? Poke at him?"

"Your mind goes straight to torture, Bea. Don't assume that for everyone!"

"What exactly are you trying to say?" Dean snapped.

"Sorry, I heard about what you majored in down in the pit."

"The hell is your problem, man?"

"You're starting to become a pain in my ass."

"Christian, take it easy, man," Sam said carefully, "they're my family."

"We all done bristling up here or what? Nobody's doing anything to him, Bea. When he's old enough, we throw it to him. He wants to volunteer to help out, that's fine."

"Could be great," Mark said.

"How?" Beatrice demanded.

"Think of the kind of hunter he'll grow up to be."

"You all are joking, right?" Beatrice said, "I mean, come on! You can't 'Angelina Jolie' a shapeshifter. Give me the baby/"

"Why can't you give me an inch of trust, Bea?"

"My name is Beatrice! You two are suddenly back from the dead and I seem to be the only one who wants to know how the hell that happened."

"You're not the only one who wants to know." Sam told her. His calm tone just annoyed her.

"There's a little too much mystery with this family for me to get comfy."

"Then don't! But don't put it on us." Sam snapped. Beatrice stared at him, hurt, but satisfied to have gotten a reaction. "All we're trying to do is invite you in. Christian?"

"Yeah?"

"You and Arlene, still no luck on the baby front?"

"Not yet. No."

"But you want one?"

"Yeah, we do."

"Wait, hold on-" Beatrice started to protest. Fred saw the panic in her eyes, the betrayal, and she moved to grab her friend's hand which Beatrice gladly accepted. She'd grown so attached to Bobby John and now she was losing another baby, only this time she didn't have a choice.

"It's okay, Bea, it's alright." Samuel said as he handed the baby to Christian. "Congrats. It's a boy, sometimes."

"The crap I do for this family."

"You're kidding me, right?" Beatrice cried.

"Go to hell, Bea." Christian snarled.

"Well, you have no business raising anything!"

"Why, Beatrice?" Sam taunted her, "because she's a hunter?"

Beatrice stormed forward before Fred and Dean could hold her back and she jabbed Sam hard in the chest, "you have no idea _what_ you're talking about, Winchester. You don't know what the hell I went through while you were swanning about here for an entire year. So shut you fucking m-"

"Beatrice!" Dean yelled. "That's enough."

Beatrice lowered her hand and backed up. "I can't do this anymore, Dean! I'm sorry." She turned to go but dogs started to bark outside in a frenzy and she stopped, exchanging an anxious glance with Fred.

"Check the back door." Samuel said. Christian handed the baby to Samuel who passed him to Beatrice, "downstairs, panic room. He'll be safe there. Go. Forget it, go! Now!"

The four of them rushed downstairs to the panic room. Beatrice slumped onto the bed, and Sam cornered her. "Alright, Bea, I think it's time you explained what the hell is going on."

"Sam, this isn't the time." Fred said in a warning tone. She placed her hand on his arm but he shrugged her off with such force that she stumbled back a little bit.

"Then when is a good time, Fred?" He snapped and rounded on Beatrice, "what's going on with you, Beatrice? Why does it seem like I'm the last to know anything about whatever this is?"

"I... I..." Beatrice trailed off, helpless, and then she saw the shifter in the window, disguised as her fiance. She scrambled further back on the bed, cradling Bobby John protectively as Sam took out the silver knife. The shifter tore the door from the hinges and threw Sam to one side, before morphing into Beatrice without shedding its skin. Beatrice stared at it in horror. "What the...?"

"Give me the baby."

"No way in hell."

The shifter took her by the neck and lifted her up the wall, choking her as it took the baby with its other hand, no matter how much Beatrice tried to scream and protest. It looked as though it was considering killing her but instead, let her drop to the ground and left with Bobby John, still wearing her face.

"Bea." Fred crouched beside the older girl and helped her up, quickly drying her tears. "Bea, it's okay, we'll get him back. Okay? We'll get him back, everything's going to be fine."

"It's too late," Beatrice whispered.

"This isn't over." Sam snapped, and left the panic room without them.

Fred and Beatrice stood by the window, looking out at the yard outside the compound. Gwen and Christian attempted to clean up after the attack while Sam, Samuel and Dean talked in hushed voices. Beatrice only caught snippets of conversation. "Well, I'm pretty sure it's not a myth now." Samuel mumbled.

"Yeah." Sam agreed.

"What the hell was that thing?" Fred asked quietly, her arm around Beatrice.

"We think it may have been an alpha," Samuel explained.

"An alpha? Like..."

"Like all monsters come from somewhere, right?"

"And you think this one was-"

"The king shapeshifter. First one who spawned all the others. There's tons of lore about it."

"The first one?" Beatrice asked as she turned around. Fred could see the fresh tear streaks on her face, and how swollen and red her pretty dark eyes were.

"That's why it was so strong," Sam told her, "and why nothing we had stopped it."

"And he said that he could find the baby anywhere, that he could feel it, like there's a connection," Samuel went on, "that's in the lore too."

"What the hell does it want with babies anyway?" Dean asked.

"A softball team? I got no clue."

"Great. Well then, how do we kill it?" Beatrice said fiercely. Samuel smiled weakly.

"I don't know if we can."

Beatrice followed Sam, Dean and Fred out to the car. "You know, it's funny." Beatrice mused. Her voice was casual enough but there was an air of confrontation to her tone that Sam picked up on and he stopped, turning around to face her with a scowl on his face, like he could taste the argument brewing.

"What's that?" He questioned, cautioning her to go on.

"You know, just before you killed that shifter at the motel, he mentioned a father, which makes sense now because he meant the Alpha," she said.

"Huh. Yeah. I guess so."

"Did you hear him say that?"

"Uh, I don't know. Kind of a hot moment, you know? Why?"

"Well, because if you heard him, then you knew the Alpha was out there."

"Okay."

"And if you knew the Alpha was out there then you knew he might come after the baby. In which case, you were using the baby as bait. So was that the plan? To use the baby as bait?"

"Of course not. Beatrice, I just thought that Samuel's was the safest place. That's all."

"Right. Of course."

The car ride back to the motel was silent. Fred snoozed in the back and Beatrice sat in the front, quiet as she watched the town whiz by. Sam's knuckles strained white as he gripped the steering wheel. Dean had sung the whole way home, just to relieve the tension, but since they'd dropped him off at Lisa's house the awkwardness returned with a vengeance. "When are we going to talk about what happened back at the compound, Beatrice?" Sam said quietly.

"I don't know what you mean." Beatrice tried to sound confident, but her voice cracked. She hoped Sam wouldn't notice. He did, but privately decided not to say anything.

"Yes, you do," he said with a sigh, "I've never seen you connect with another person like that, with Bobby John. And.. the way you spoke about your time without me... why won't you tell me what happened? What could have possibly been so awful that you have to keep it from me?"

Sam didn't notice Beatrice was crying until she let out a little sob and he reached over the handbrake to squeeze her thigh, encouraging her to tell him. "Sam... we... we have a child."

"What?"

"B-Before you went to hell, I found out I was pregnant and I planned to tell you, but you made the decision to open the pit, and... I couldn't do that to you. So I left. I wanted to abort the baby but ultimately I couldn't go through with it and I decided to raise her, but I just... I couldn't do it. I gave her up for adoption two months ago."

For a moment, Sam was quiet and Beatrice was worried about how he would react. Eventually, he said, "why wouldn't you tell me, Beatrice?"

"I was scared. I didn't want you to hate me. Or.. to think I was weak."

"She went to a good home?"

"Of course. I met with the parents. They're older, they couldn't have children. They already adopted one child a few years ago, a little boy called Max. They loved her."

"And what did you call her?"

"Leonora Mary."

Sam smiled a little bit. "I like that name."

"Are... are you angry with me?"

"No," Sam sighed, "maybe I should be, I don't know. But you were on your own. I couldn't have expected you to raise a baby, not on your own. I couldn't have done it." Sam glanced over at Beatrice as she yawned and stretched a little in her seat. "Go to sleep, Sweetheart. I'll wake you when we get to the motel."

When he turned to her, he was surprised to see she was already sleeping. Fred sat up in the back, rubbing her eyes. "How long was I out?" She asked groggily.

"Not long." Sam said, "an hour or so."

Fred hummed in response and rested her head on the window. '_Castiel_', she thought numbly, '_if you can hear me, then please, I need you. We all need you. I love you, Sweetheart._'

She waited for a second, but there was no response.

"Of course it's not UFOs. It's fairies."

Beatrice had seen some interesting things in her time as a hunter. She'd been kidnapped by a shapeshifter. She'd very nearly sold her soul. She'd met angels, and watched her best friend and fiance both go to Hell, and her fiance subsequently lose his soul. In all that time, however, she'd never come in contact with aliens or fairies. She actually found the whole thing quite laughable. "Fairies," she said, trying to remain professional and not laugh, "okay. Well, thank you for your input."

She stood to leave the trailer, but Sam just had to open his mouth. "What? Flying saucers not insane enough for you?"

The woman looked in disbelief between Sam and Beatrice, who looked equally horrified. "What newspaper did you say you worked for?" She said timidly.

"Okay, if you want to add glitter to that glue you're sniffing, that's fine, but don't dump your whackadoo all over us. We'd rather not step in it." Sam said with a genuine smile. Beatrice grabbed his arm and tried to pull him out but Sam resisted.

"Okay, we're... we're done." Beatrice tried to reason with him.

"The only thing you're missing is a couple dozen cats, sister."

"It's a blood sugar thing, my apologies."

Beatrice pulled Sam out into the street. "What?" He asked innocently.

"_What_? You gotta ask? Right, yes. You do have to ask."

"Look, I'm sorry, but this is all a big joke, right, and we're not actually taking this UFO crap seriously?" He asked in disbelief. Beatrice was suddenly wishing Fred and Dean were there to help her cope.

"No, Sam. ET is made of rubber. Everybody knows that, but there are four legitimate vanishings in this town. Something's going on. And, Sam, by the way, it's not that lady's fault that she took the brown acid."

"Yeah, so?"

"Empathy, Sweetheart. Empathy. I mean, the old Sam would have given her some wussified, dew-eyed crap."

"Old Sam had a soul! Was a soul. Whatever."

"Right! Yes, and... and... but you don't... aren't. Whatever!"

"Right."

"Right. You don't care."

"Well-"

"You have to care!"

"About what, exactly?"

"About everything, Sam! About being human, at least."

"Look, Beatrice, you obviously care. A lot. And that's great. But I don't care about what... I can't care about it, you know? What do you want me to do, fake it?" He asked. Beatrice threw up her hands in exasperation.

"Yes! Absolutely! Fake it. Fake it till' you make it."

"What happened to you wanting me to be honest?"

"I got a bit sick of you reminding me how little you love me," she said bitterly, her voice filled with resentment, "hey, you wanna be a real boy, Pinocchio, you gotta act the part."

"I _was_ faking it, Beatrice! Ever since we got back on the road together, I was picking every freaking word. It's exhausting."

"Okay, alright. But until we get back on the soul train, I'll be your conscience, okay?"

"So you're saying you'll be my... Jiminy Cricket."

"Shut up. But yeah, you freaking Puppet. That's exactly what I'm saying."

Fred knocked on the door to the watch maker's before going in, followed closely by Dean. "Mr Brennan?" She called softly, scanning the shop for the owner before spotting him behind a desk. He jumped to his feet, immediately defensive as he saw the two of them lingering in the doorway.

"Hmm?" He said.

"We're with The Mirror. We would like to ask you-"

"What? Is this about Patrick? Patrick's gone."

"Missing, right," Dean said, "yes, that's what we wanted to talk to you about."

"Now, your son was the first to disappear-" Fred said but was cut off by Mr Brennan.

"First to be taken."

"...Taken?"

"Get out! Out!"

"Mr Brennan," Fred said loudly over his yelling, "who do you believe took your son?" Dean could sense the doubt and mistrust in her voice which Mr Brennan also seemed to pick up on.

"You people can't help me. My boy is never coming back."

"You sound awfully sure."

"Excuse me?"

"Like you know something you're not talking about."

"You know what they say," Mr Brennan said darkly, "seventy two hours. After that, the odds of finding a missing person drop to nothing, right?"

"Well, every case is different," Dean said.

"It's been weeks!"

"Alright, listen. Call us if anything comes to mind."

When they left the house, Beatrice and Sam were waiting for them on the street. The two were engaging in hushed decision and though Fred couldn't hear what they were saying, she could see how dead Beatrice looked behind the eyes. "What did you find?" Beatrice asked, pleased not to be speaking to Sam anymore.

"I think Mr Brennan's hiding something," Dean said, then turned to Sam, "why don't you stay and watch Watchmaker and see what happens when the sun goes down, and I'll go check out the crop circles."

"Okey dokey." Sam said, a bit too cheerfully.

"But do _not_ engage with, maim or in any way kill Brennan. In fact, I don't want you making any judgement calls whatsoever. Anything happens, call us," Beatrice said quickly as Sam attempted to enter the shop again. Sam rolled his eyes incredibly dramatically.

"You know, Jiminy, I was on my own for a whole year. I did fine without you."

"Yeah. I don't want to know your definition of fine."

Fred anxiously paced the motel room. Dean and Beatrice had gone to visit the crop circle and Sam was still at the watch maker's. Fred had feigned an illness in the hopes they'd allow her to stay in the room which luckily, they had. It gave her the opportunity to try and contact her boyfriend. Castiel had joined them on cases, attempting to return Sam's soul, but he hadn't spoken to Fred. After she had turned him away, she didn't know why she was surprised.

She kneeled down by her bed, clasping her hands tightly and bowing her head. "Castiel," she said aloud, "please. I know you can hear me. Come home, Sweetheart. _Please_."

There was a flurry of wings behind her and she jumped to her feet, turning around to face the angel who was stood a little way away, avoiding her gaze. "This isn't a good time, Winifred."

"I'm sorry," she looked down at the ground, "I just... I needed to see you."

When Fred lifted her head again, Castiel was inches from her. "Don't apologize."

"I should have listened. That first day in my exam."

Castiel rested his hand on her cheek and Fred breathed out heavily, leaning into his touch. "Where are the others?" He asked. His voice was low and husky and Fred's breath hitched.

"Dean and Bea are at the crop circle and Sam is out watching the missing boy's father."

"Will they be back any time soon?"

Fred smiled, suddenly realizing what he was talking about. "They won't."

"Excellent."

Castiel gave her a gentle push back to the bed and kissed her. She slipped the coat from his shoulders, her fingers making quick work of the buttons on his shirt. Castiel's hands found her thighs and he ran his strong hands beneath her skirt, and he barely had her underwear to one side before he was inside her.

Fred gasped, burying her face in his shoulder. Behind them, the door opened and Fred squeaked, pulling up the blanket to preserve her modesty. Castiel disappeared, his skin flushed red and leaving her alone in the bed. "Uh, hi. Fred." Sam said awkwardly. Lingering behind him was a pretty brown haired girl, but a girl that wasn't Beatrice. "This is Sparrow."

"_Wow_." Fred adjusted herself and stormed past him. "You make me sick, Sam."

She slammed the motel door and went into the parking lot, pulling out her phone to call Beatrice but saw she already had over twenty missed calls from her. "Oh, shit," she mumbled and quickly dialed her friend's number. Beatrice picked up after barely three rings. "Bea, I'm here. What's going on?"

"Fred," Beatrice panicked on the other side of the line, "it's Dean. He... he's gone."

Fred paused. She wanted to tell Beatrice about Sam but hearing the panic in her voice, she couldn't bring herself to. "What do you _mean_ he's gone, Bea?"

"I mean he's been abducted! By a UF- Dean? Oh my God, Dean!"

"Bea, Beatrice what's happening?" Fred yelled. She could hear muffled yelling on the other end between Beatrice and Dean but the line went dead and she could only wait in the parking lot until the Impala pulled up and Dean staggered out, dazed, followed by Beatrice who was fretting more than usual.

"He needs coffee," Beatrice diagnosed, "a lot of it."

"Beatrice," Fred said quickly, realizing she hadn't seen Sam or Sparrow come out, "I... I don't think you should go in there." She tried to step into her path but Beatrice was faster and opened the door to the motel before Fred could stop her. Beatrice stopped. She backed up, her hand over her mouth as tears came into her eyes.

"Beatrice." Fred heard Sam announce. He rushed outside, hastily pulling on a pair of jeans. "And uh, Dean!"

He was quickly followed by Sparrow who had thrown on Sam's shirt to cover herself which only infuriated Beatrice further. "What the hell?" Beatrice demanded.

"Oh, that's Dean!" Sparrow said, not acknowleding Beatrice. "Sam, they brought your brother back!"

Beatrice lifted her hand, aiming at Sam but Fred tackled her and forced her to drop it. "No, Bea!" She yelled, "he isn't worth it, okay? He isn't worth it."

In tears, Beatrice slipped the engagement ring from her finger and slammed it against his chest. He caught it, looking at her with total indifference. Sparrow didn't seem to notice, and Dean was too stunned to really acknowledge any of them. "It's alright, Sam," Sparrow said absently, rushing into the motel to collect her clothes, "I so totally understand that you need time as a family. But it's just... what were they like?" She rounded on Dean, who looked at her, suddenly irritated.

"They were grabby, incandescent douche bags. Goodnight."

"Too soon? Okay?"

Beatrice watched, stony faced, as Sparrow left. "You're upset," Sam said, and Beatrice realized she was talking to Dean, not her. She realized Sam knew about Dean's abduction and still decided to do what he did.

"I was abducted," Dean said angrily, shouldering past Sam into the motel room, "and you were banging Patchouli!"

"I don't think she smelled that bad." Sam defended himself.

"I was abducted by aliens!"

"I was looking into it."

"Looking into it!" Dean scoffed, "I was gone for, like, an hour."

Beatrice looked at him, confused. "An hour?"

"And most of that was driving back into town. Right, Bea?" He looked at her but she shook her head.

"Dean, I think your watch is off. You've been gone all night."

"What are you talking about? No I haven't." He stopped and looked at the clock hung up on the wall and his face paled considerably. "Four AM?"

"Yeah! UFO time slip. That actually falls in line with a lot of abduction stories." Sam cut in.

"Falls in line?" Dean demanded.

"Yeah."

"Nothing's falling in line!"

"Here." Sam prepared and handed him a glass of whiskey, "drink. Good."

"Thank you." Dean drained the glass and poured himself a second.

"Yeah. Now, come on."

"Talk to us. What happened?" Fred urged him.

"Well uh, there was this... God help me, Freddy, there was this bright white light. And then, suddenly I was, uh, I was in a different place. And there were these beings, and they were too bright to look at but I could feel them pulling me towards this sort of... table-"

"Probing table." Sam said knowingly.

"Don't say that out loud!"

"So what did you do?" Beatrice asked, ignoring her Sam.

"I went crazy. I started hacking and slashing and firing. They actually seemed surprised. I don't think anybody's ever done that before. Yeah, I had a close encounter. And I _won_."

"You should take a shower," Fred suggested, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I should take a shower," he agreed, "I'm gonna. I'm... gonna take a shower now."

The three of them watched Dean go, and as he did silence invaded the room. "Looks like I wasn't the only one doing something other than looking for Dean," Sam said casually, picking Castiel's trench coat up from the side of Fred's bed. Her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, and Beatrice's with rage.

"_Fred isn't engaged to someone else_!" She cried, "and besides, Fred didn't _know_. I can't.. I can't be with you anymore, Sam, I can't! I've tried so hard for so long but... it isn't you, alright? You're not you and I don't know how much longer I can take this. I love you, of course I love you, but... you're not that man that jumped into the pit a year ago." He stared at her blankly as she ranted, enraging her more. "Say something, dammit! _Say something_!"

She lifted her hand and this time, Fred didn't stop her as she telepathically slid him up the wall, resisting the urge to choke him. She would have done anything for a reaction, but when he barely blinked, she released him and collapsed back onto the bed. "Don't you love me at all? Not even a little?" She asked in a small voice. Sam said nothing. Beatrice nodded, accepting it. "I think I'd like to go to bed, now."

Sam nodded back. "I'll see you tomorrow, Beatrice."

Beatrice forked absentmindedly at her plate of food, but found she didn't have much of an appetite. Aside from Sam, none of them did. "So, on top of all the demons and the angels and the ghosts and the skinwalkers, it turns out there's... so if aliens are actually real, what's next, Hobbits? Seriously." Dean grumbled into his bacon. Meanwhile, Sam winked at a passing waitress. Beatrice tried not to get upset, because after all, he was newly single, but it was difficult not to. "You just gave her the silent 'how you doing'," Dean said, irritated on Beatrice's behalf.

"What?" Sam asked, oblivious.

"Our reality's collapsing around us, and you're trying to pick up our waitress?"

"Yeah, okay. Look, brings up a question. So, say you got a soul, and you're on a case, and your brother gets abducted by aliens-"

"Yeah, then you do everything you can to get him back." Dean said, "and you don't sleep with random nut-job girls, who suck at alien hunting, and also you don't cheat on your damn fiance."

"Right," Sam said, "but what about when there are no more leads for the night? Are you supposed to just sit there in the dark and suffer, even when there's nothing that can be done at that moment?"

"Yes!" Fred said crossly.

"What?"

"Yes, you sit in the dark and feel the loss."

"Absolutely!" Sam agreed, "but couldn't I just do all that and have sex with the hippie chick?"

"No!" Beatrice snapped.

"It'd be in the dark."

"No you couldn't because you would be suffering," Dean said, trying to calm Beatrice and stop her lunging at Sam over the table, "and you can't just turn that off for the night."

"Why not?"

"Because if you had a soul, your soul wouldn't let you."

"So, you're saying having a soul equals suffering."

"Yes. That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Like, the million times you almost called Lisa. So you're saying suffering is a good thing."

"I'm saying it's the only game in town."

"Okay! So how do we deal with the little green men?"

"Research," Fred said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, (to Sam-with-a-soul, it would have been), "we've got about a century of UFO lore to catch up on, and there's no time for..." she trailed off, looking at Dean who was glaring outside of the diner window, "uh.. are you okay, Dean?"

"What's up with that guy?" He said.

"Who?"

"The guy by the window giving me the stink eye."

"You mean the cop?"

"No, not the cop! The guy! He's right... oh, now he's gone!"

"Who's gone?" Sam pressed.

"Can we please just get out of here before I hit you?"

"Okay! Geez."

Beatrice flicked through the old science fiction book. Fred saw how pale she looked, and noticed the dark circles under her eyes and deduced that she hadn't had a full night's sleep for at least a week. She shifted over to the seat beside Beatrice, resting her hand on top of the other girl's. "It won't be like this forever." Fred said softly. "He'll get his soul back. Castiel will help us."

"_Can_he help us?" Beatrice asked.

"Of course he can. It's Cas, he... he wouldn't abandon us. We'll get Sam back, alright? And things will go back to how they used to be. I promise."

Beatrice went to say something but her phone rang in her pocket and she answered. It was a nice distraction. "Hi, Dean. Library's closing up soon. We're almost done."

"You find anything?"

"Yeah, way too much. Everyone on the planet believes in UFOs, and they will not stop writing books about it."

"Yeah, well at least books have punctuation. Alright, keep digging and we'll see what you've got when you get back." Dean seemed distracted suddenly, and he said, "oh no, not again." Before the line went dead.

"Dean?" Beatrice looked at the phone helplessly. "We need to get to the motel. Now." She said urgently, gathering her things and motioning for Sam and Fred to follow her out to the Impala. She dove behind the wheel, not trusting either of them one hundred percent to drive and she sped to the motel, Fred sliding about in the back.

By the time they arrived, Dean had dealt with the threat and was relaxing on the bed with a beer. Fred didn't have the heart to tell him it was the bad she and Cas had slept together on just the night before. "Aha!" Dean said excitedly when they saw them. "I got it! I got it real good."

Beatrice and Fred exchanged a glance, looking at Dean like he'd lost his mind. "Got what, Dean?"

Dean led them all towards the microwave and as he opened it he motioned to it proudly, but the device was empty and completely unused. "You see it?" He said excitedly.

"See what?" Sam asked incredulously, peering into the microwave.

"See _what_? See the blood. See all the... blechh!"

"Sorry, man. I'm not seeing it."

"You don't see the ick? It's right there!"

"Okay, let's go with you see it and we don't," Fred suggested, "what the hell was it?"

"It was... a.. a little.. naked lady. Okay?"

"It was a.. what?"

"It was a... it was a little, glowing, hot, naked lady. With nipples. And she hit me."

Fred struggled to suppress a giggle. "I'm not supposed to laugh, right? Right, okay. Sure. Um, so, shot in the dark here, but did this little lady have wings?"

"What the hell made you say that?"

"She did, didn't she?"

"Yeah, but how did... how'd y-"

"One of the fringier theories we came across," Sam explained, "It's actually what crazy crystal lady was yammering about. What if these abductions have nothing to do with UFOs?"

"What?"

"Okay, say these encounters have been going on for centuries, not with extraterrestrials, but with _ultra_terrestrials. People nowadays say 'space aliens' or whatever, but they used to call them-"

"Smurfs."

"Fairies."

"Fairies?" Dean looked dumbfounded. "Come on!"

"Dean, there's a straight line between ETs and Fairies." Fred said, "glowing lights, abductions.. it's all the same UFO stuff, just under a different skin."

"You seriously think that the secret with UFOs is..."

"Hey, you're the one who pizza-rolled Tinkerbell. I'm just doing the maths. But this is good. This is a lead."

"A lead where?"

"Fairies. Spirits and spriggens. Bogarts and Brownies. The little people have many names." Marion, the lady from the day before, said excitedly as she handed out tiny teacups.

Dean pointed to one of the delicate fairy statues."Well, that's uh, that's her. That's the little... anyway, I uh, I get that tinkerbells are fairies, but what about the tiny Santa Claus and the troll and the-"

"That's a garden gnome, and that's a large goblin, and-"

"But they're all fairies?"

"Yes. Faery come in many shapes and sizes. Magical, mischievous beings from the realm next door."

"The fairy realm?" Beatrice asked doubtfully.

"Mmhm."

"So, it's like another dimension?"

"Another reality! Yes. Only people who have been there and returned to our world ca see the Faery here." She explained. Dean looked at Beatrice, who shrugged. She didn't want to admit it, but it made an alarming amount of sense. Or maybe it was just the sweet tea talking.

"Right, umm, why are the fairies abducting people?" Dean asked.

"Mm, there is much theory and little fact. We know they only take firstborn sons, just like Rumpelstiltskin did. Personally, I think they're taken to serve Oberon, the king of the Faery."

"Dean?" Sam said softly, "did you service Oberon, king of the fairies?"

Dean ignored him. "Marion, um, let's say fairies are real, okay? What can we do about them?"

"Sorry?"

"How can we..."

"Interact with them?"

"Yes! Yes, forcefully interact."

"Well, if you want to win a faery's favor, leave a bowl of fresh cream. They love cream." She explained with an air of exciement that caused Beatrice to smile, unwillingly endeared.

"Okay!" Dean said, "and.. and more forcefully?"

"Oh, all faery hate iron, and the dark faery burn when touched with silver. What else... oh! You can spill sugar or salt in front of them. No matter how powerful, the faery must stoop to count each grain."

"Well, alright-y! That's... wow! A lot to absorb. Thank you."

"Oh, stay! Finish your tea."

"I gotta say, I love the feel, it's, uhh... it's..." He looked over to the others for help. Sam, of course, decided to be helpful before Fred or Beatrice could interrupt him.

"It's like Sedona, Arizona, crapped in here." He said.

"Cute-a-riffic!" Fred corrected him, "is what it is."

"You have bigger cups?" Sam asked.

"God, is it on me?" Dean asked grumpily as they walked down the street, "I feel like I've got the crazy on me."

Beatrice laughed, "no. You did sit in some glitter, though."

"Makes me want to believe in UFOs again."

"Doesn't really give us the next move, I grant you that. We can always put the call out to Bobby..." Beatrice trailed off. Across the road, Mr Brennan was carrying a large bag of flat cream. "Hey, I'll be damned. Isn't that the watch guy?"

"Huh," Sam said softly, "they love cream."

They watched as he carried the cream into the shop, came out and then went into the bar. "Alright, you and Fred stick with half and half, me and Bea can check out his store. And no hippie chicks!" Dean said.

Beatrice and Dean disappeared around the back of the watch shop while Fred and Sam took off into the bar after Mr Brennan. Beatrice crouched by the lock on the back door, unpicking it carefully with a hair pin. The lock clicked and the two went in. While to Beatrice the shop was empty, Dean looked around in awe from behind their hiding place, and then the two decided to sneak out again before they were noticed by whatever Dean saw.

Dean pulled out his phone and called Fred. "Yeah?" The girl said on the other end.

"Freaking full of keeblers over here, man," Dean said, "just full of them."

"What?"

"It's like the story with the shoe guy and all the elves. Hey, you think Brennan made a deal with a bunch of theories?" Dean suggested, the idea suddenly cementing in his head.

"Lemme get back to you." Fred hung up and approached Mr Brennan who was about to order his drink at the bar. "So, Mr Brennan," she said with mock cheerfulness, "hello again."

"Leave me alone," he snapped.

"Did I ever mention how beautiful your work is?"

The man looked at her, surprised, "what?"

"The watches, just stunning. What I can't figure out is how one man can put out that much product. I mean, hell, if I didn't know better, I'd say you have a bunch of elves working for you! Except, I do know better. And you have a bunch of elves working for you." She accused him. He looked at her blankly but there was fear in his eyes.

"You're insane."

"So tell me," Sam said, joining them, "how does a father decide to trade his son for a bunch of watches? I mean, I assume you have a soul, so what's your excuse?"

"You don't understand," Mr Brennan said desperately, "it wasn't like that."

"Then how was it?"

"I supported my family for thirty years making those watches. It's the only thing I know how to do. Parkinson's... was losing my hands. I was losing everything! My Grandmother, she always used to say that they were real. She told me all of these stories when I was a kid about how to summon them, how to... get _favors_ from them."

"So you learned how to work a spell."

"I mean, honestly, I doubted it would even work. I was just desperate. But she left me this boo, so I did the ceremony in my back office two months ago, and this man appeared and.. said he was a leprechaun."

Fred stared at him. "A... leprechaun?"

"I asked him just to cure my hands but he said he would do even better. He would make me more successful than I had ever been. He told me he'd bring a crew of workers, that I could save my business, save my name."

"In exchange for...?"

"He just wanted a place for them to rest, to take the fruit and fat of the land. I said yes. I wasn't thinking!"

"And the fruit and the fat was?"

"My firstborn. Not... just mine, there's been others. They're not stopping! They're not _going_ to stop."

"There's gotta be a way to reverse the spell."

"There is. But the book is in a safe in my shop. They won't let me near it. It's been a nightmare."

"You can see the fairies?"

"Yes."

"There," Dean said quietly, motioning across the road. Beatrice couldn't see anyone, but Dean seemed certain so she trusted that whoever was following him was really watching. "Keep guard," he urged her and ducked down an alleyway. Moments later, there was a commotion and Beatrice ran into the alley, panicked.

"What? Help! Help!" A little man begged loudly as Dean tackled him.

"Little fairy!" Dean yelled, "what do you want, you fairy? Huh? _Huh_? Fairy!"

"Dean!" Beatrice called, the same time a little girl screamed, "Daddy!"

Turning back to face Beatrice, Dean froze and stepped back, holding up his hands in defense. "Oh, God no. Haha. I'm just kidding!" He tried to defend himself. Beatrice groaned. Following their usual pattern of good luck, a cop passed by, noticed the commotion and tackled Dean, as Sam, Fred and Mr Brennan also passed the alleyway.

"Dean? Hey, dude! What happened?" Sam yelled as Dean was cuffed.

"Sam! Hey!"

"What are we supposed to do?" Beatrice cried.

"Fight the fairies! You fight those fairies! _Fight the fairies_!"

Sam, Beatrice, Fred and Mr Brennan crept into the watch shop through the back door which Beatrice had unlocked earlier. While the three waited, Mr Brennan unlocked his safe and took out the spell book."Lich sha-hayt," he read aloud, phonetically, "uh keeya shun, augus small un sorashun, augus phooetek en shia, en rache connecsha-"

His spell was cut off as the leprechaun appeared behind him and stabbed him in the back. The watchmaker crumpled. "You!" Sam yelled, "you're the leprechaun?"

Evidently he knew the man, but neither Fred nor Beatrice recognized him. "Indeed I am," the leprechaun said, "sorry about the mess, but your friend here went back on his deal."

"Well, you weren't very clear with him on the terms," Fred pointed out.

"I told him there was a price," the leprechaun reasoned, "once we come, we come to stay."

"So, you take firstborns, and then what? You just sit back and watch while they cover the abductions for you with all that crazy UFO crap? Which you help encourage, naturally. Nice con. But, your cover's blown now, 'Wayne'." Sam said to him.

"Blown? To whom? Brennan's dead. Your brother? He's marked. Been to the ranch. He's ours now."

"Yeah. Well, then there's us." Beatrice said fiercely.

"You? But you can only see me if I left you."

The leprechaun disappeared and Beatrice cursed under her breath. "True," she said, "but you'll have to get near us eventually. and I have very good reflexes." The leprechaun reappeared as she was talking on the other side of the shop and grinned wickedly at her but with a certain curiosity.

"You're not like the rest of them, are you?"

"Nope." Sam said.

"I could see that. You're missing a certain piece, right in the center. Ain't you?"

"Says who?"

"We fairy folk? We're all about energy. And the human soul gives off a certain perfume. _Your_ soul is far away. But not completely out of reach."

"Is that so?"

"Sam, I can get it back for you. For a price."

"That's adorable. It's locked in a box with the devil."

"Your devil. Not mine."

"There's no freaking with a leprechaun can do what angels cannot." Fred said.

"Angels," the leprechaun laughed a little too loudly and for a little too long, just enough to make Fred squirm, "please. I'm talking about real magic, Princess. From my side of the fence. Got a way of getting in back doors."

"So you're my blue fairy?" Sam said sarcastically, "you can make me a real boy again?"

"When you wish upon a star."

"Yeah. I got a wish." Beatrice lifted her gun and shot the leprechaun. He howled, but recovered fairly quickly and he laughed in her face again.

"Iron! Painful, but not a deal breaker."

Beatrice shot him again, out of frustration more than anything else. The leprechaun had soon tired of the game and lunged at her, but she was quicker and lifted her hand, blowing him backwards. "Magic," he laughed, "I should have smelled you the second you walked in here. Filthy, dirty witch."

"No more filthy than a leprechaun." Beatrice watched as he stood and dusted himself off but didn't give him long enough to attack, hurling a ball of fire at him but he leaped to the side, avoiding it. It gave Sam enough time to race to the kitchen, though, and he returned unseen with a bag of salt.

"Come on, girly," the leprechaun taunted Beatrice, "you've already taken your best shot."

"You're right. I'm done. So do me a favor, and count this."

She looked over to Sam who emptied the bag onto the floor. The leprechaun's face fell. "Oh, no."

"Why didn't we do that earlier?" Sam asked. The leprechaun sat cross legged on the floor to count as Sam finished reading the spell. "Kum savaltcha, ar noyang, kun enna, ret augus, kkuum doinsha and getta wabasach shul!" The leprechaun and the other fairies in the shop disappeared.

"So, here's to the tiniest DA. At least they're dropping the charges." Dean laughed as he leaned against the hood of the Impala and took a long drink from a beer. He was the only one who had accepted a bottle.

"Little big man," Sam said.

"I was wondering something." Dean said.

"Yeah?"

"You think Lucky Charms really could have, you know, soul to sender?"

"Come on, it's crazy to think. He did talk a good game, though."

"You said no," Beatrice said, "why?"

"It was a deal. When's a deal ever been a good thing."

"I'm just trying to figure out how it works in there."

"Beatrice, I do still have all my brain cells. If anything, my brain works better now."

Beatrice resisted the urge to roll her eyes at that. "Just making sure that's where your head's at. That you're not having second thoughts about getting your soul back."

Sam seemed to hesitate. "Oh."

"You're not. Are you?"

Sam smiled at her and finally accepted the beer. "No."

"Beatrice, are you coming?" Fred asked, waiting by the door. The older girl had stopped by the window and was watching Sam and Dean load the Impala. "Bea?" Fred said when she didn't answer. Beatrice turned slowly, and Fred could see the fear in her eyes, but it didn't reach the rest of her face.

"I don't think I can."

"Oh."

"I can hear her, Fred."

"...Her?"

"The Alpha. She's been speaking to me for a long time now. I don't know how much longer I can resist her. I need to get out, somewhere where you'll all be safe, away from me. I need to find my baby and make sure I can protect her." She trailed off, shaking her head, "I've already packed my things. I'm sorry, Freddy."

Fred embraced her in a tight hug. "I'll see you again?"

"Of course. However long it takes."

The Impala came to a sudden stop as Dean slammed on the breaks, nearly sending Fred into the back of his chair. He'd dropped Beatrice off, and now he wouldn't talk to Sam, or Fred. He was worried he'd start to cry if he did. The three of them got out of the car where they were greeted less than gracefully by two demons. "You're late." The first said.

"Traffic was a bitch," Dean said bitterly. "Where's Crowley?"

"Banging a hooker in a sweet spot called 'none of your business'."

"Oh, look at that, Sam," Dean snapped, "demon trying to be funny."

"Oh, is that what just happened?" Sam asked with a smirk. The demon narrowed his eyes.

"Night, girls." He turned to go but Fred stepped past the two brothers.

"Wait, wait," she said quickly, "hold up. Are we ever gonna see Crowley again or is he just gonna keep sending his demon extras to pick up his laundry?"

"I'm sorry. I know you're speaking, I see your lips moving, but I can't understand what you're saying because I don't speak little bitch." The demon patronized her. The two of them got into their car and drove away. Fred watched them, her eyes narrowed into little, angry slits.

"Remember when we used to gank demons?"

Fred pushed open the door to the run down house they'd spent the last fortnight squatting in. Without Beatrice's jacket beside the door, and her things scattered in the lounge, it felt empty, and she and Dean were really feeling the loss. Sam, however, didn't seem to care. The three were quiet until Dean slammed the door behind them, scaring the crap out of Fred. "No, man, screw it," he said angrily, "I'm done."

"Calm down," Sam said, though he didn't sound like he cared in the slightest.

"We've been going on these freaking Crowley runs and it's not getting us anywhere!"

"Dean-"

"I mean, the only thing that's really changed is now I need a daily rape shower."

"Okay, you're right. Let's go with plan B. Oh yeah, we don't have one! So until we do, sorry dude, stock up on soap-on-a-rope. Dean, if you wanna get my soul back, that's what we've gotta do, okay?"

"Yeah, you even want it back?" Fred challenged him.

"I'm working for Crowley, aren't I?"

Dean went into the kitchen to make them all a drink. Fred sat on the sofa opposite Sam but the front door opened and she frowned, leaving to investigate. The door was open but there was nobody there. "The hell?" She mumbled and peered out, but something hit her over the back of the head and everything went black.

When Fred came to, she was tied to a chair, her neck stiff and muscles aching. "What now?" Dean mumbled on her left. Fred struggled to crane her neck to look at him, and their captors who she could sense lingering behind them.

"I think I know who you can ask," Sam muttered.

Meg and her demon companion circled round the chairs, a shit-eating grin on her face. "Evil bitch." Dean said.

"Keep sweet talking me, this could go a whole other direction," she teased him.

"Meg, I've been dying to see you again."

"Well, here I am, big boy. So what should we do now?"

"How about I rip you to shreds?" Fred offered, only have joking. Meg turned to her with a smirk that Fred didn't once think to return. Meg placed two fingers under her chin to tip her head up to look at her.

"Kinky, I like. A little Q and A first, if you don't mind. Now, where's your boss?"

"You think we work for somebody?"

"I happen to know for a fact that you've been juggling Crowley's orphans."

"Don't know. Don't care."

"You've been working his beat for months!"

"Doesn't mean we get face time."

Meg straddled Fred's lap, pinning her further back against the chair. Fred was worried that if the demon didn't distribute her weight properly, they'd both fall backwards. "Where's he take all those things you snatch up for him? I bet you an all-day sucker that's where his majesty's holed up." Meg said. When Fred didn't answer, Meg took a knife and held it to her throat, "okay, officially over the foreplay. Satisfy me, or I please myself!"

Beside Fred, Sam laughed and both Fred and Dean turned to look at him, stunned. "Something funny, Sam?" Dean asked, quietly willing his brother to be quiet.

"Yeah. Meg."

"Really? Because where I'm sitting-" Fred started but Sam cut her off.

"Don't worry, she can't do jack squat. She's totally screwed."

"Sam! Not helping!"

"Look at her, Fred, she's furious. If she could kill you, she'd've done it by now. She's running."

"Am I?" Meg challenged him.

"Judging by the level of flop sweat on you, yeah. Which means you're running from Crowley, which makes sense. Crowley would want to hunt down all the Lucifer loyalists now that he's the big man on campus."

"How would you know?" Meg asked but she was getting more and more defensive.

"It's what I'd do. She can't kill us. She needs us to get her to Crowley so she can stick that knife in his neck. It's him or her," Sam explained to Dean and Fred, who felt a little more confident about the situation.

"Well, I hope you both lose," Fred said sarcastically as Meg got up. "But good luck."

"So, you know what you gotta do now, right?" Sam asked her. Meg rolled her eyes.

"Let me guess. You're gonna tell me."

"Work with us."

Fred and Dean continued to stare at Sam. "_What_?"

"We'll hand you Crowley with a bow," Sam said, "on one condition; we come with you and you help us wring a little something out of him before you hack him to bits."

"What?" Meg said.

"Doesn't matter. Question is, can you get us what we need?"

"I apprenticed under Alastair in Hell just like your brother. So, Dean, can I make Crowley do whatever I want?"

"Yeah," Dean said darkly, "she can."

"It's a deal then. Hugs and puppies all around!"

"You gonna untie us?" Fred said angrily.

"Please," Meg laughed, "don't pretend you don't enjoy it."

She turned to go. Her demonic companion squared up to Fred, staring intently at her. "You gonna kiss me?" Fred taunted him. Meg turned back around and rolled her eyes.

"Come on!"

Fred watched her go, silently, and then she and Dean turned on Sam while he worked on untying himself. "What are you doing?" Fred demanded. Sam looked at her blankly as he freed his wrists and he got up to untie his brother.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what are you _doing_?"

"Fred, you both wanted to screw over Crowley. Merry Christmas! _What_?"

Dean looked at him like he'd lost his mind, "you wanna work with a demon again?"

"We're working with demons now. I'm doing this because I wanna stop."

"She killed Ellen and Jo!"

"I know. But you can't look at this emotionally, Dean. We need her."

"The hell we do!" Fred yelled, "that little bitch is gonna screw us over so fast-"

"Of course. Which is why we'll screw her first. Meg and her little posse are dead the second we're done with them." Sam told her with a sigh and untied Fred's binds. She got up, rubbing her wrists. She was grateful he'd released her, but she still couldn't get over his frankly idiotic suggestion. If Beatrice was there, she'd have talked some sense into them. But she was gone.

"Yeah, if they don't kill us," Dean said.

"They won't. 'Cause we're bringing insurance."

"He's going to be pissed," Fred said. Sam shrugged and leaned against the wall.

"I don't care. He'll only ever come on your command."

"Castiel, we need you. It's important." She said up to the ceiling. Nothing. She looked at Sam, helpless, but he nodded, urging her on. She shrugged and tried to shoulder past him but he grabbed her arm, and he tried instead.

"Cas, we found something. It's this gold box. Apparently Nazis were after it back in the day. Someone opened it and their face melted off. I thin it's... ready for this... the Ark of the Covenant. Yeah, so-"

"I'm here. Where is the box?" Castiel said as he appeared by the window.

"I can't believe you fell for that," Sam scoffed and released Fred, "that was the plot of Raiders, idiot."

Castiel looked at Fred who's cheeks flushed with guilt. He noticed how she held her arm, and saw the bruises starting to form and he made a mental note to deal with Sam later. "I'm mid battle, Sam."

"I could give a rat's ass about your little pissing match with Raphael."

"Listen to me, Sam-"

"No, you listen to me! I don't care what you're dealing with up in Heaven. You owe me."

"You may not care, but believe me-"

"I'm sorry, do you think we're here to talk this out?" Sam stepped somewhat threateningly towards the Angel and Fred instinctively stepped forward as though trying to protect Castiel. In turn, he took her hand in his own. Sam didn't notice, and if he did, he probably would have mocked them for it.

"Sam, I can't just-" Castiel started but was interrupted again.

"If you don't help us, I will hunt you down and kill you."

"Will you, boy? How?" Castiel threatened him back.

"I don't know yet. But I will look until I find out. And I don't sleep."

"You need help, Sam," Fred pleaded with him. Sam looked towards Castiel.

"I need his help."

Samuel's study wasn't big enough to accommodate the four of them, but they searched relentlessly anyway. Fred held up a pack of scribbled on post-it-notes, but the boys only stared at her so she put it back down. Behind them, Samuel cleared his throat loudly and the four froze like naughty children. "Can I help you? What do you want?" Samuel challenged them as they all turned around to face him, looking guilty.

"We wanna know whee Crowley is." Dean said.

"I I even knew, why would I tell you?"

"Because you're our Grandfather!"

"Samuel, I'm gonna get my soul back," Sam attempted to reason with him.

"Who says you can get it back?" Samuel scoffed.

"Me."

"Look, I'd like to help, but I'm sorry."

"It's your grandson's soul!" Dean said angrily.

"I can't."

"What is wrong with you? Do you wanna work for Crowley? Guys, can you give us a minute?" He turned to Cas and Fred. Castiel placed two fingers on Fred's forehead and when she opened her eyes they were in the yard of the compound. Fred shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, placing her thumb nail in her mouth which she chewed absently until Castiel noticed and gently swatted her hand away from her lips. She smiled sheepishly.

"Where's Beatrice?" He asked.

Fred sighed. She'd been hoping to avoid this question. It was easy to lie to Sam and Dean, come up with some bullshit excuse, but Castiel saw right through her and probably knew already anyway. "She was hearing the call of her Alpha. She left to make sure her baby was safe, and to protect the rest of us in case the Alpha came looking." Fred hesitated before she asked her next question, "do you think there's a way of making sure she and Leonora are safe?"

"I can offer my guidance from afar but those are the sorts of things I can't interfere in." Castiel said regretfully, "Beatrice will be safe. Her powers are strong enough that she can take care of herself."

"Castiel.. if you knew Sam was alive for all that time, why didn't you come for me sooner? Why did you let me go on for a year without you? Don't you understand how much you hurt me?"

"Of course I understand," Castiel said and Fred thought she saw a flash of anger in his deep blue eyes, "do you think it was any easier for me? I adore you, Winifred. I'm utterly devoted to you. I stayed away so I could protect you. Raphael wants me dead, and I wouldn't put you in that sort of danger."

"I can look after myself!"

"We're not talking about a run of the mill angel here, Winifred! Raphael doesn't just want me dead, he wants to torture me first. Slowly, psychologically, and the only way he can do that is to get to you! I will not allow anything to happen to you, not ever, don't you understand? I am in love with you!"

Fred stared at him for a moment, digesting it, and then she pulled him into her arms, burying her face in his chest. "I don't want to lose you again," she whispered.

"You won't," he said softly, "I promise."

The compound door was thrown open and Fred and Castiel parted. "Well?" She said.

Dean stormed past her. "We're on our own."

Fred flicked through the old book, searching desperately for any information, but the pages revealed nothing and she flopped forward, her nose nestling into the spine. "It's very complex," Castiel said across the room. Neither Sam, Dean nor Fred looked up from their work.

"Mmhm." Dean acknowledged him.

"If the pizza man truly loves this babysitter, why does he keep slapping her rear? Perhaps she's done something wrong."

"You're watching porn?" Dean said, horrified, "_why_?"

"It was there."

"You don't watch porn in a room full of dudes, and your girlfriend, and you don't... talk about it. Just turn it off." Dean turned back to address Sam and Fred but saw Castiel look down at his lap, "well, now he's got a boner."

Fred buried her face in her book again. There was a knock on the door and Dean answered it to see Samuel stood there. "This what you kids do, sit around watching pornos with angels?" He said. Castiel glared at him.

"We're not supposed to talk about it."

"Why are you here, Samuel?" Fred said tiredly, closing the book.

"It's what Mary would want. Now, this is what I know. Whatever we bag ends up there," he unrolled a map from his pocket and pointed to a location marked with a small 'X', "that's where he tortures 'em, interrogates 'em. I don't really know. Only been outside the places, but it's a death trap. Nothing gets in that Crowley doesn't want in and nothing gets out, period."

"Well, thanks," Dean said with a curt nod.

"I wish you wouldn't do this," Samuel sighed.

"Come with us." Sam offered but Samuel laughed bitterly.

"I may be soft, but I'm not suicidal."

Meg and the male demon were waiting outside the house when Fred left to get some coffee, and she was followed out by Dean, Sam and Cas when they realized the demon had showed her face. "Remember me?" She grinned at Castiel, "I sure remember you, Clarence."

Castiel looked towards Fred, frustrated, "why are we working with these abominations?"

"Keep talking dirty," Meg smirked, "makes my meatsuit all dewy."

"Alright, simmer down," Fred snapped, "we know where Crowley is."

"Great. Do tell."

Fred scoffed, "yeah, tell you, so you can just leave us for dead."

"You have serious abandonment issues, you know that?"

"We'll show you, alright? Bu we're all going together." Sam told her.

"What, I'm just supposed to trust you?"

"No, you're not that stupid. Give me the knife for a minute."

"No," Meg smirked, "I'm not that stupid."

"Do you want us to take you to Crowley or not?" Meg hesitated, and then passed Ruby's knife to Sam. He inspected it for a second, and then lunged forward and stabbed the demon behind Meg. "You saw him. He was more interested in killing us than getting the job done. I just did all of us a favor."

Meg's expression dropped as Sam started to slip the knife back into his jeans. "Hey!" She yelled, "you just gonna keep that?"

"You took this from us. I'm taking it back. We leave in one hour."

Sam took off back into the house and Dean, Fred and Castiel followed him. "I'll start packing up." Fred said, and disappeared into the lounge where she started putting ammunition and other necessities. Dean joined her, while Cas lingered by the window. "You know, Cas, you could help," Fred said to him.

"I'm ambivalent about what we're attempting." The angel said.

"Well, breaking into monster Gitmo is not exactly a two-for-one in the champagne room." Dean laughed, but the sound was hollow and his smile didn't reach his eyes.

"I'm not sure retrieving Sam's soul is wise."

That captured their attention. Fred and Dean exchanged a look and then stared at Castiel. "Wait, what?" Dean said, "why?"

"I want him to survive."

"What are you talking about?"

"Sam's soul has been locked in the cage with Michael and Lucifer for more than a year. And they have nothing to do but take their frustrations out on him. You understand? If we try to force that mutilated thing down Sam's gullet, we have no idea what will happen. It could be catastrophic."

"You mean he dies." Fred said with an air of anger.

"I mean, he doesn't. Paralysis. Insanity. Psychic pain so profound that he's locked inside himself for the rest of his life."

"But you're saying you don't now anything for sure. I mean, he could be fine." Dean said.

"He could be, yes."

"Okay then."

"But I sincerely doubt it."

"Well, if he's not fine, then you fix him."

"Dean, I wouldn't know where to begin."

"Then you figure it out, Cas. Come on. I mean, the guy's a frigging replicant. He needs his soul. Look, we get it back. And if there are complications, then we will figure out a way to deal with those too."

"Of course," Castiel agreed, "or, we fail, and Sam suffers horrifically."

"Seems pretty quiet," Fred commented as they approached the warehouse. If they'd just been driving by it, Fred wouldn't have suspected a thing. But she knew she couldn't begin to imagine what horrors were inside.

"It's not, I can feel it. Meet me at the side door." Castiel said and when Fred looked, he was gone.

She led Dean and Sam to the side door he had talked about and waited for a good thirty seconds before the angel let them in. "This all seem a little too easy to you?" Fred mumbled. Sam nodded.

"Way too easy."

"Is someone there?" A strangled cry came from down the hall and Fred froze. "Please, please help me. _Please_! I can't... I can't take this anymore!" The voice broke off with a sob and Fred looked at Dean who had gone very pale.

"Beatrice." He mumbled. He pushed past his brother and disappeared down the corridor, not waiting for anyone to follow but Fred did, though she struggled to keep up. Beatrice was in a cell at the end of the corridor. When she saw the two of them she backed away, her eyes blown wide with fear.

"No, this isn't real," she groaned, "you're not real."

"Oh God, what's he done to you?" Dean mumbled. "Fred, can you unpick the lock?"

"Already on it." Fred slid a bobby pin from her curly hair and jiggled it in the lock until the door swung open. Dean went in, kneeling in front of Beatrice and gently brushing her hair back from her eyes.

"Bea, look at me," he said softly, "I'm real, I promise. I'm here. Freddy's here, and Castiel and Sam are here too. And, uh, Meg, for some reason. You can blame Sam for that one."

Beatrice laughed tearfully, her head rolling back against the damp wall. "No, that's impossible. My Sammy is dead. The Sammy you've got doesn't give a shit about me anymore."

"We have to get her out of here, Dean," Fred said urgently. "Castiel!"

"I'm here," the angel said, scaring the hell out of Fred. "I'll take her to Bobby's."

"No." Beatrice said, sitting up and wiping the blood from her nose. "I want to help with whatever this is. If you're even real."

"Bea-" Dean started but Castiel cut him off.

"We don't have time for this, Dean. We need to move." Sam and Meg were waiting down the hallway. It infuriated Fred how little Sam cared, though Beatrice had said so herself. "Wait," Castiel said suddenly, holding up a hand to stop them.

"What is it?" Dean said.

Down the other end of the corridor, dogs started to bark. "Damn it," Meg said in a monotone but Fred was convinced she saw a little fear in her eyes, "here come the guards."

"Hellhounds, go!" Dean yelled. They took off towards the cells to a pair of swinging doors. Meg wedged the door shut with a plank of wood while Sam hastily drew a line of salt to keep them out. "I knew this was a trap," Dean said angrily at the sound of the hounds tearing Meg's demon accomplices apart on the other side of the door.

"What do you want, a cupcake?" Meg said sarcastically.

"Alright, that should keep them out," Sam said, straightening up. Fred noticed how he slid an arm protectively around Beatrice and how she leaned into his touch, and she realized that there was something in him that did care about her even now, even though he had a funny way of showing it.

"Not for long," Beatrice mumbled, "how many of them are there?"

"Lots." Meg said, "I'll be pulling for you. From Cleveland."

"_What_?" Dean demanded.

"I didn't know this was gonna happen. Bright side, them chewing up my meatsuit ought to buy you a few seconds. Seacrest out." Meg threw her head back and tried to vacate the host body, but nothing happened.

"A spell, I think, from Crowley," Castiel said, "within these walls you're locked inside your body."

"Karma's a bitch, bitch." Dean said bitterly. Sam took out Ruby's knife, which Dean noticed and he scowled at what he presumed was his brother's stupidity, "what are you doing? Gonna slash at thin air until you hit something?"

"You can see them," Sam said to Meg, ignoring Dean, "take this. Hold them of, it's our best shot."

"At Crowley," Meg corrected him, "take it and go. You kill the smarmy dick. I'll hold off the dogs."

"How are you gonna do that?" Dean said.

Meg turned to Castiel and pulled him in by the back of his neck, kissing him while simultaneously slipping his angel blade from his inside pocket. Fred stared at them, but did observe Castiel's disinterest in the kiss as Meg pulled away. "Is that gonna work on a hellhound?" Fred asked, motioning to the angel blade.

"Well, we're about to find out. _Run_."

They took off again, around a corner and towards a stair well, just as the lights cut out. "I can't see jack!" Dean said in frustration, and in the dark Fred could just make out the shape of him throwing his hands up dramatically, which she almost laughed at, but she did manage to restrain herself.

There was a blinding light suddenly and Cas' hand in hers disappeared. "Castiel?" She said, looking around the stairwell but she couldn't make out his silhouette anywhere. Instead, she saw Samuel. "You sold us out!" She said accusingly. From the shadows, four demons appeared, restraining each of them. "Damn you, Samuel!" Fred yelled.

"Yes," Crowley said, bemused as he appeared behind Samuel, "and I have to say, best purchase I've made since Dick Cheney. Beatrice, I see you're out. Can't be having that. Take her back to where she belongs. I'll deal with you later."

Fred could hear Beatrice crying as the demon dragged her back towards the monster cells and she felt rage boil in her blood but instead, decided to act casually, which threw Crowley off guard a little, "hiya, Crowley," she said, "how's tricks?"

"Above your pay grade. Been working, big things. Alas, you'll be too dead to participate."

"Really?"

"Shame I have to do away with you all. Rather enjoyed your indentured servitude.

Beatrice paced angrily around her cell. She rung her hands repeatedly, trying to beat some feeling back into them after spending days in the freezing cell. She didn't know how one person could endure so much torture in such a short space of time. Her hunt for the Alpha had taken a serious trip down south, and she was concerned the first witch could already be dead. She whirled in frustration, throwing up her hands. Part of the cell exploded. She stared in awe. Her powers had been blocked since she'd arrived, but now... _Crowley was weakening._

She backed up, facing the bars of her cell and she lifted her hands, concentrating all her energy into one place. The bars started to bend outwards. Blood dribbled from her nose and her head felt like it was about to explode, and her pain materialized in the form of a scream but she refused to give up.

Two demons rushed around the corner at the commotion. "Hey!" They yelled. Beatrice dropped her hands and stepped through into the corridor. They both rushed at her but she lifted her hands and they stopped, fighting against an invisible wall. They started to scream as their skin peeled from their bodies and then, they caught flames, and burned from the inside out.

"You will not hurt me again," she said in a low tone that wasn't her own, "you will not hurt anyone I love again!"

Beatrice closed her eyes, concentrating on finding them. When she opened them again, they were white. She glided down the corridor, almost ethereal, until she found them in Crowley's torture room, a room she had paid many a visit to herself. Crowley had Sam, Dean and Fred telepathically pinned to different walls. When he saw her, his eyes widened. "What the hell?" He spluttered.

"Let them go." She said. "I mean it, Crowley. I will tear you apart, piece by piece if you do not release them."

Crowley laughed in her face, "you don't know torture, you little insect."

He lifted his hand but Beatrice did likewise and the king of hell lifted up, his arms thrown wide apart as Beatrice attempted to tear him in two. "This is for everyone you ever dared to hurt, you pathetic, sniveling-"

"Beatrice!" At the sound of Castiel's voice, she froze, "that's enough."

As she lowered her hand her powers weakened and her knees buckled, but Sam, suddenly freed, caught her before she could fall and he knelt down with her cradled in his arms. "Did I do good?" She whispered. He smiled weakly, wiping a smear of blood from her face and pushing her hair back from her eyes, which had returned to their normal brown.

"You did beautifully, my love."

"Leave them alone." Castiel threatened Crowley who laughed.

"Castiel, haven't seen you all season. You the cavalry now?"

"Put the knife down."

"You that bossy in Heaven? Hear you're losing out to Raphael. The whole affair makes Vietnam look like a roller derby. Hey, what's in the gift bag?" Crowley looked at the little sack suddenly, intrigued.

"You are." Castiel lifted an old skull from the bag.

"Not possible."

"You didn't hide your bones as well as you should have."

Crowley clapped slowly and mockingly. "Cookie for you."

"Can you restore Sam's soul or not?"

"If I could help out in any other-"

"Answer him!" Dean snapped.

"I can't."

Castiel incinerated the bones. Crowley set alight, and disappeared, screaming, while Meg simply vanished. "Well, she's smart," Fred said, dusting herself off, "I was gonna kill her, too." She turned to Castiel, "of course, I'd have given you an hour with her first." She teased, but he stared at her cluelessly.

"Why would I want that?"

Beatrice was laid in the back of the Impala, sleeping on Fred's lap. The door was open so she could speak with Dean, Sam, and most importantly, Castiel. "Thanks, Cas," Dean was saying, "hadn't it been for you-"

"Crowley was right," Castiel interrupted, "it's not going well for me upstairs."

"If there's anything we can do..."

"There isn't. I wish circumstances were different. Much of the time I'd rather be here." He cast a longing gaze at Fred who smiled weakly at him and reached out to squeeze his hand.

"Look, Cas," Dean went on, "we know you got a steaming pile on your place. There's no need for apologies. We're your friends."

"Listen, Sam, we'll find another way." The angel promised him but Sam smiled bitterly.

"You really wanna help? Prison full of monsters. Can't just leave 'em. Can't let 'em go."

"I understand." The angel disappeared. Dean turned to his brother.

"He's right, you know," the oldest Winchester said in a comforting tone.

"About?"

"About your soul. We'll figure something else out."

"No, we won't."

"Why? Because Crowley said-"

"You heard what Crowley said. And I heard what Cas said. Putting this thing back in would smash me to bits." Sam said angrily. Fred privately thought he sounded a little remorseful, but she said nothing.

"We don't know that for sure."

"You know what? When angels and demons agree on something, call me nuts, I pay attention."

"You say this now?" Dean snapped, "after we practically died trying to-"

"Exactly! We almost got ourselves killed, _Beatrice_ almost got herself killed. I mean, how many times do we risk our asses for this? Enough's enough. I don't think I want it back."

"You don't even know what you're saying," Dean scoffed.

"No, I'm saying something you don't like. You obviously care, a lot, but I think... maybe I'm better off without it."

"You're wrong, you don't know how wrong you are."

"I'm not sure about that." Sam turned from them and started to leave.

"Sam, don't walk away. Sam? Sam!"

"Where's Bobby and Fred?" Beatrice asked, coming into the front room where Sam and Dean where sitting by a pile of empty glass liquor bottles.

"In town, supply run."

"In _this_?" Beatrice motioned to the storm outside the window.

"Yeah, pair of heroes. We're officially out of hunter's helper."

Behind Beatrice, Balthazar suddenly appeared. "Hello. You've seen 'The Godfather', right?"

Beatrice groaned audibly. "Balthazar."

"You know, the end, where Michael Corleone sends his men to kill his enemies in one big, bloody swoop?" The angel rushed around the room, starting to pour salt into a bowl on Bobby's desk.

"Hey!" Dean snapped.

"Dead sea brine, good, good, good," Balthazar said, ignoring him. "You know, Moe Greene gets it in the eye, and Don Cuneo gets it in the revolving door?"

"I said 'hey'."

"You did, twice. Good for you. Blood of lamb, blood of lamb..." Balthazar stopped by Bobby's fridge, raiding the contents, "beer, cold pizza, blood of lamb... yes! Blood of lamb!"

"Why are you talking about the Godfather?" Sam asked.

"Because we're in it, right now, tonight. And in the role of Michael Corleone, the archangel Raphael."

"You mind telling us what you mean?"

"No, no no no no no," Balthazar mumbled under his breath as he went through Bobby's desk drawers, ignoring the trio again, "yes! Bone of a lesser saint. This vertebra will do very nicely. Your Mr. Singer does keep a beautiful pantry." He dropped the blood and the bone into the bowl on the desk.

"Wait, Raphael's after you?" Beatrice cut in.

"Raphael is after us all. You see, he's consolidated his strength. And now, he's on the move."

"And where's Cas?"

"Oh, Cassie? He is deep, deep underground. So, good old Raffy put out a hit list on every last Samaritan who helped our dear Cas, including all of you. And so much more importantly, me. See, he wants to draw Cas out into the open."

"And you expect us to just believe you?"

"Oh, don't. You'll go where I throw you either way."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That's all the time we have, ladies and gentlemen," Balthazar opened his jacket, revealing a nasty looking bloodstain which made Beatrice wince a little bit, "where is it?" He groaned, searching his jacket pockets relentlessly.

"What happened?" Beatrice asked.

"Oh. Garish, I know. You see, Uncle Raffy sent one of his nastiest to handle me. I'm flattered, actually. And down a lung at the moment, but that's alright." He pulled something from his pocket and handed it to Sam. Upon closer inspection, Beatrice realized it was a set of keys. "Here's for you."

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Sam asked.

"Run with it." Balthazar was thrown across the room as another angel came into the room behind them. "Virgil," Balthazar growled and got shakily to his feet. "I said, run!" He telepathically pushed the trio through the window which Beatrice noticed was marked with quite a messy blood sigil.

Beatrice braced herself to hit the tarmac under Bobby's window, but instead, she hit a soft mattress. She tentatively opened one eye. She was laid between Dean and Sam, as she had expected to be, but instead of being out in the storm they were in the middle of a TV set. "Cut!" A director yelled opposite them.

"Real solid, good fall. Way to go!" A crew member praised them as he passed.

"Jared, Jensen, Laura, outstanding! That was just great!" The director said, getting to his feet.

"Supernatural, scene one echo, take one. Tail slate. Marker!"

"So, no angels?" Beatrice whispered to Sam and Dean as she sat up, looking around cluelessly.

"No angels. I think." Dean said.

"But that was great!" The director yelled as he argued with a different crew member.

"It's not a problem with the stunt. It's a problem with the signal."

"Should we be killing anybody?" Sam said. Beatrice shook her head.

"I don't think so."

"Running?"

"_Where_?"

"Gets us right up to where they, just before they hit the window." The crew were starting to argue between themselves now and Beatrice watched in awe as they bickered.

"You know, the part where they hit the window is the good part."

"Well, we can clean up, rest the window, takes about ninety five minutes, basically. So we'd have to blow off the scene where they sit on the Impala and talk about their feelings."

"Ha. Right. You answer the hate mail!"

"_Or _we could have them fly at the window, then freeze frame. Then cut to black, act out."

"Freeze frame."

"Um, yeah. Freeze frame."

"Fine. Whatever. Season six. Moving on."

"Moving on! That's a wrap on Jared, Laura and Jensen."

Sam looked to Dean and Beatrice, alarmed, "who the hell are-"

"Jared, Laura, three minutes, okay? Great." A woman took Sam by the arm and led him towards a completely different set of cameras, leaving Beatrice to presumably follow after them, which she and Dean attempted to do but they were intercepted by a second woman.

"Jensen, there you are! Let's just get you in the chair."

"_Chair_?"

"Okay, hon, we're just gonna get this makeup off your face."

Dean didn't seem to hear anything after 'makeup'. "I'm not wearing any-" He looked down at the cloth the makeup artist had just used to wipe his face and was horrified to see the foundation covering it. "Oh, crap. I'm a painted whore!"

"Laura." The first woman called over to Beatrice again and, stunned, she went over and sat beside Sam who looked just as confused as she did. "Trish Evian here with Jared Padalecki and Laura Ackerman from TV's 'Supernatural. So, season six. You beat the devil, Sam lost his soul, and got it back again, and Beatrice lost her baby. So tell us, what's next for Sam and Beatrice Winchester? Oh, and if you could include the question in your answer? Thanks."

After the interview, Sam and Beatrice rushed over to where Dean had just finished having his makeup done. "Dude, they put freakin' makeup on us! Those bastards!"

"Loo, I think I know what this is," Sam said.

"Okay, what?" Dean demanded.

"It's a TV show."

"You _think_?"

"Yeah. I mean, here, wherever 'here' is, this twilight zone Balthazar zapped us into. For whatever reason, our life is a TV show." Sam explained, though he didn't like the sound of it himself and he could see how much it infuriated Dean.

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"No, seriously, why? Why would anybody want to watch our lives?"

"Well, I mean according to that interviewer, not very many people do. Look, I'm not saying it makes sense. I'm just saying, we... we landed in some dimension where you're Jensen Ackles, Bea is Laura Ackerman, and I'm something called a 'Jared Padalecki'."

"So, what, now you're Polish? Is any of this making sense to you?"

"Oh, hey. At least my baby made it!" Dean said excitedly, spotting the Impala in the yard. A crew member approached it and started to fling mud over the wind screen, and that was when Beatrice noticed the five identical Impalas parked beside it. "I feel sick," Dean groaned, "I'm gonna be sick. I want to go home. I feel like this whole place is bad touching me."

"Yeah, I know. Me too." Sam said, "so what do you think? Cas?"

"He's our best shot, if he's still alive," Beatrice agreed, "dear Castiel, who art maybe running his ass away from Heaven, we pray that you have your ears on, so..." she trailed off, seeing Castiel and Fred chatting by a line of trailers, "Cas? Fred? Hey, guys! Oh, thank God. What is all this, huh? What did Balthazar do to us?"

"To keep you out of Virgil's reach, he's cast you into an alternate reality, a universe similar to ours in most respects yet dramatically different in others." Castiel explained.

"Like... Bizarro Earth, right?" Dean said, struggling to understand, "except instead of having Bizarro Superman, we get this clown factory."

"Um.. yeah, well.. anyway, no time to explain. Do you have the key?" Fred cut in.

"Yeah." Sam pressed the keys into the angel's awaiting hands, "so uh, what does this thing do anyway?"

"It opens a room." Castiel said.

"What's in the room?" Dean pressed him.

"Every weapon Balthazar stole from Heaven."

"He gave it to _us_?"

"To keep it safe until we could reach you. With those weapons, I have a chance to rally my forces."

"Oh. Okay, good," Sam said, "yeah, so now, uh, what's the deal with all this TV crap?"

Fred and Castiel exchanged a glance. "Pardon?"

"Yeah. Amen Padaleski," Dean said, clapping Sam on the shoulder.

"Uh, 'lecki'."

"What?"

"Lecki. Pretty sure."

"Did they put out new pages?" Fred said, pulling her script out of her bag. Beatrice stared at her and felt her heart sink a little further into her body.

"New what?"

"I mean, is this some kind of cosmic joke?" Sam snapped.

"Yeah, because if it is, it's stupid, and we don't get it." Dean affirmed.

"Are you guys okay?" Castiel laughed.

Dean snatched the script from Fred. "Give me that. What is... these are words in a script. This isn't Cas. And that isn't Fred." He sighed, handing the script back to Fred who stared at him cluelessly.

"You guys want to run lines, or...?" The actor playing Castiel asked.

"His name's Misha," Dean said, "and she's Wednesday. Misha? _Wednesday_? What's up with the names around here?" Dean looked down at Misha's hands as he pulled out his phone and saw he was wearing a wedding ring. "Oh, and he's married. Let me guess, _Wednesday_, on screen romance?"

Wednesday French laughed brightly. "Very funny, Jensen."

"Oh my God, you're _British._"

"You guys," Misha laughed uneasily, "you really punked me! I'm totally gonna tweet this one. 'Hola Mishamigos, J-Squared and my beloved L got me good. Really starting to feel like one of the guys."

Beatrice stared at Misha in alarm. _My beloved L_? When he closed his phone she managed to catch a quick glimpse of his background; a photograph of him and her stood beside one another, Beatrice in a wedding dress. "Oh, no." She mumbled.

"You alright, darling?" Misha placed his hand on Beatrice's forehead, "your forehead's a little warm."

"I.. I'm fine," Beatrice said, dazed, "I'll see you at.. home?"

Dean and Sam took off towards the trailers and she jogged after them. "Hey, J Ackles," Sam read a name on one of the trailers aloud. Dean's face lit up excitedly.

"That's fake me! This must be fake mine." Dean opened the door and went in, closely followed by Beatrice and Sam. "Dude, I have a helicopter!" Dean said, and he sounded like a little boy at Christmas. Beatrice found that she didn't have the heart to remind him that none of it technically belonged to him.

"Oh, alright, who puts a three hundred gallon aquarium in their trailer?" Sam laughed.

"Apparently Jensen Ackles."

Sam spotted a laptop on the table, "huh. Alright, here we go. Let's see who this guy is."

"Well, he's not a hunter, but he plays one on TV." Dean picked up a glossy magazine from beside the laptop, "check this out, 'Wednesday and Laura's bitter off screen feud'," he read the cover aloud, showing it to Beatrice. The magazine cover pictured her and the actress playing Fred in what looked to be an intense screaming match.

"Let me see that," Beatrice flicked to the page covering the story, "it seems hypocritical that Laura Ackerman would mistrust her husband of two years, Misha Collins, for his on screen romance with Wednesday French, but feel perfectly fine going out for coffee with her own on screen spouse, Jared Padalecki," she read, "oh my god, I'm a bitch!"

Dean was already flicking through another magazine. "Look at these male modelling sons of bitches. Nice 'blue steel', Sam," he snickered. Sam shrugged and motioned to the laptop screen.

"Hey, apparently it's our job. Alright, uh, here goes. Um, it says you're from Texas."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and uh, oh, says you were on a soap opera."

"_What_?"

Sam opened the screen to a clip from 'Days of our Lives', which apparently Dean had been the star of. '_If I didn't have cancer, and I wasn't married, and I had plenty of money, would you.. would you want to run away with me_?' The actress on screen asked softly, to which Jensen's character replied, '_Money? What? You think I really care about money, Nicole? I care that you're healthy_.'

Dean slammed the laptop shut. "I don't like this universe, guys, we need to get out of this universe."

"Yeah, no argument here," Sam agreed, "but I don't think our prayers are reaching Cas. Or the real Cas."

"Well, I agreed, I think we are definitely out of, uh, soul-phone range. But... if we can reverse Balthazar's spell, I watched every move. We just uh, get the ingredients, right, get back to that same window, and.. there's no place like home."

The three of them made their way back to the set of Bobby's living room where the ingredients for the spell were discarded on his desk. "Backbone of a lesser saint!" Beatrice said excitedly, picking up the bone only to find it flopped in her hand. "It's rubber!"

"Check this out," Dean picked up a prop dagger and pushed the fake blade back and forth, "hey, look, it's fake!" He jabbed the dagger at Sam's chest, "it's all fake! What are we supposed to _do_ with this crap?"

"Of course everything is fake," Beatrice said bitterly, "we're on a film set." She stormed off set and back into the yard towards one of the Impalas, "we've got to get back to the real world."

"Yeah, now you're talking." Dean and Sam got into the front of the Impala while Beatrice slid into the back. "Alright, we go round up the genuine articles, bring them here for the rest of the spell." He noticed then that the car wasn't going over ten miles per hour, no matter how hard he pushed his foot on the acceleration pedal, "what the hell is going on? What is _wrong_ with this thing?"

Beatrice noticed the crew member jogging alongside the car, knocking urgently at the window. "Mr Ackles! Mr Ackles, please! God, Mr Ackles, please stop, please?"

"It's a frigging prop!" Dean exclaimed and stopped the car, getting out, "just like everything else."

"Oh, thank you, thank you so much for-" The crew member was cut off by Dean.

"How the hell are we supposed to get out of here?"

Dean thought it was nice to be driven around for once, but he wished the circumstances were different. "You know whereabouts you want me to drop you off? Jensen? Laura?" The driver asked, glancing at the three of them in the rear view mirror.

"Us?" Jensen looked at Beatrice who shrugged, "yes, um.. we'll just tag along, with, uh.."

"Jared," Sam said softly.

"Jared.. Jared here."

"Huh. Since when are you guys talking?" The driver said.

"Yeah, uh, y-you know what, Clint, uh..." Sam started, but the driver gently interrupted.

"Clif."

"Yeah, yeah of course. Clif. Obviously. Um, so uh, I think we're gonna go back to my place and do some... work."

"Work on our acting," Beatrice affirmed. "For our characters. For the show."

"Yeah, alright." Clif rolled up the partition and left the three to talk freely. Beatrice looked out of the window at the city whizzing by and found she didn't recognize a single monument or street sign.

"Where the hell are we?" She asked, and then saw a 'welcome to Vancouver' sign. "Oh my God, we're not even in America."

Clif pulled up outside Jared's house the three said quick goodbyes before going in. "Nice, modest digs, Jay-Z," Dean scoffed, looking up. He couldn't even call it a house. It was a mansion. Sam looked just as surprised as they did.

"Wow, I must be the star of this thing," he said.

"Yeah, right. Check it out." Dean motioned to a tanning bed in the corner with a smirk.

"What am I, Dracula?"

"George Hamilton Dracula." Across the room, Dean spotted a liquor cabinet and rushed over to it, "oh, now we're talking." He passed the garden on his way there and stopped, peering out into the yard, "dude, you have a camel in your backyard."

"It's an Alpaca, dumbass." A voice said from the stairs. The three of them turned around and Beatrice very nearly attacked.

"Ruby?" She said in disbelief.

"Ruby, right," the woman rolled her eyes, "that one never gets old." She came downstairs and rested her hand on Sam's chest, almost sending Beatrice into a fiery rage, "how was work today, hon?"

"Wait, you and Ruby?" Dean said.

"Do you honestly think that's funny, Jensen?"

"Right. Right, of course you're not Ruby. You, I mean.. how could you be? You, of course! You are the lovely actress who plays Ruby. And you are, uh, in Jared's house. Because you are... married!" He turned to Sam, "you married fake Ruby?"

"What are you doing?" The woman asked.

"Work," Sam said quickly, "work."

"Yeah, just uh, thought we'd pop in and say, 'hey'. Hey! And, and.. maybe run some lines. It's-" Dean started but was cut off by the actress, who rolled her eyes again.

"You've never even been to our house."

"Well, now I know that there's an Alpaca out back, I'm definitely coming back."

"Well, Alpacas are the greenest animal."

"Right. Right, that is so important."

"Well, there's that thing I have to get to."

"Oh, yeah. Of course. Yeah. The... thing." Sam looked at the others for help.

"The international otter adoption charity dinner? Okay, well," she paused to kiss Sam, "I'm glad you three are talking, anyway."

"Yeah."

They watched, silently, as she left the room, and no one spoke again until the front door slammed. "Well, looks like you did alright," Dean commented. Beatrice smacked his arm.

"I should figure out her name." Sam said as the house phone began to ring. "I should get that, also. With this being my house." He pressed the button on the phone and Misha's voice came through the loud speaker.

"Oh, hi, Jared. Is uh, is Laura there?"

It took Beatrice a second to work out that he meant her. "Yes!" She said suddenly, "yeah, I'm here. Is, uh, everything okay?"

"Yeah, no, I just wondered where you were. Bob wanted to film some scenes with us and Wednesday tonight. Is that still okay? I mean, I know you and Wednesday-"

"No, no! It's fine!" She said quickly, "I'm on my way."

"Great! I'll see you soon, I guess. I love you."

Beatrice swallowed hard. "I.. I love you too."

The phone clicked as the line went dead. "I guess I'd better call Clif back." When she left, she was surprised to see the car still waiting in the front yard. She sat in the front and Clif smiled awkwardly at her.

"Insurance policy," he smiled weakly, "gotta stay for at least an hour in case the boys start fighting."

The next day, Sam and Dean couldn't find Beatrice. The last they'd heard from her, she was filming scenes with Misha and Wednesday, but she wasn't on set at all that morning. They went out to the trailers, where they did eventually find her, lounging in a deck chair with sunglasses on and a cocktail in her hand. "Beatrice?" Sam said, concerned that she'd woken up as her actor self. She startled, and he realized she'd fallen asleep.

"Sammy!" She smiled, taking the sunglasses off and sitting up. "Good morning. Hi."

"What's this?" He asked, motioning to her little set up.

"What?" She looked at him sheepishly, "I always wanted to be an actress. And, besides," she lifted the cocktail as though toasting him, "it was free. Did you know we have our own personal assistants?"

"We got the bone," Dean told her, lifting up the little parcel he was carrying. "Where's Misha and Wednesday?"

"Oh, Misha's off running his lines and warming up. Wednesday is grabbing an iced coffee. You know, I can't understand why I hate her so much, she's really not interested in Misha at all."

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance, "Bea, you know you're not actually married to him, right?"

Beatrice rolled her eyes, "obviously. But Laura is."

"Right. And you're not Laura," Sam reminded her. "We need to go and complete the spell before filming starts." He looked up at the small clock tower in the middle of the yard, "I'd say we have about ten minutes."

Beatrice drained her cocktail and abandoned the glass and the sunglasses by the chair, following them into the replica of Bobby's living room. She used the fake knife to open the package, but the lights turned on. "We finish today in 12 hours if it kills us all," the director said to the crew, "get 'a' and 'b' cam for scene twelve. What is this?" He noticed Sam, Dean and Beatrice in the set, "here for the first run through before anyone else? Dedication!"

"Uh, can I talk to you for a second?" Beatrice asked him, "um, we're gonna need the uh, set cleared for... safe side, an hour or so."

The director stared at her incredulously. "You need it cleared."

"Yeah, we uh, we're gonna do some... actor stuff."

"Laura, we're thrilled to see you collaborating so creatively. And your enthusiasm is refreshing! Dean Cain was like that, and that man's a real actor. And we will clear this set exactly when we shoot the 2 3/8 pages we are scheduled to shoot on this set. So you do your 'actor stuff', and we'll do our 'camera stuff', and, uh.." he motioned back to the set which she returned to sheepishly. Misha had arrived and was turning the parcel over in his hands.

"Ooh, 'priority'," he was saying to Sam and Dean, "what's in it?"

"I bought part of a dead person," Sam said.

"Oh. Cool."

"Uh, so bad news," Beatrice said, "looks like we're gonna have to do a little acting."

"Supernatural scene thirty six, take one. Marker!"

"Action!"

"Balthazar is no hero," Misha said, suddenly acting as Castiel and Beatrice was very aware of the cameras aiming at her. She tried to adjust herself accordingly, "but he knows Raphael will never take him back."

Misha turned around, looking expectantly at Dean who Beatrice presumed had the next line, but no one said anything. The director groaned. "Cut!"

"Supernatural scene thirty six, take eight. Marker!"

"Action!"

"Balthazar is no hero. But he knows Raphael will never take him back."

Beatrice saw Dean glance down at the script hidden not so subtlety in his hand. "Dean. Grimly. And yet, somehow you got no problem with it."

"Cut... action!"

"That's because... that's because we have no choice," Sam said awkwardly.

"Don't look at the camera." Beatrice whispered to him.

"What?"

"Look anywhere but the camera."

Sam nodded knowingly and looked up at the ceiling as he repeated the line. "That's because we have no other choice!"

"Cut! For the love of... Action. Cut!"

"If there's a key, then... there must also be a lock."

"Cut! Action!"

"If there's a key... then there has to be a lock. And when we find the lock, we can get the weapons, and then we can have the weapons. And the lock. We'll still have the lock, I imagine, because we've opened it. And, of course, the initial key."

"We need to get all three of that crap." Beatrice said in a husky voice. Sam stared at her.

"What?"

"That's how she does it."

"Oh."

"Do we really need all these lines?" Dean called, waving the script at the director out of the window, "I mean, I.. I think we've covered it, right?"

Beatrice looked at the script, "who wrote this? Nobody says 'penultimate'."

"Gun, mouth, now." Dean agreed.

"Moving on!" A crew member yelled and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Thank God."

Beatrice turned around to see Misha tweeting aloud on his phone again. "I-m-h-o, J and J had a late one last night."

"Alright, dammit, we earned this," Dean said over Misha as he gathered the ingredients on the desk. He started to throw the ingredients in backwards, and then painted the blood sigil on the window, even messier than Balthazar had done it the morning before. Beatrice stared at the sigil with her eyebrows raised.

"That's it?"

"That's it, Toto." Dean confirmed.

The three of them reared up, and then crashed simultaneously through the window, but landed back in the production room. They exchanged a glance, and then ran into Jensen's trailer before anyone could question them. "Maybe we did it wrong," Sam suggested, but Beatrice shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest.

"No, no that spell was perfect. It should have worked."

"What if it can't? Look, I was up all night, looking online. There's no sign that anything like the apocalypse ever happened here. Ever. And as far as I can tell, monsters, ghosts, demons... they're all pretend."

"So, nobody's hunting them?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"No hunters. Look, maybe that's why our spell didn't work, you know? Maybe here, there's no supernatural. No.. magic."

"No demons, no hell, no heaven. No.. no God?"

"Something like that. Even better, no angels."

They returned to the green screen room where two stunt doubles were punching one another. "Okay, maybe we can't get out of uh, you know, Earth number two right now, but the least we can do is get out of the Canadian part of it." Dean said.

"Yeah." Beatrice agreed absently.

"I hear one more conversation about hockey, I'm gonna puke."

"Wait a minute," Sam said, "this way."

"No, it's this way. This way!" Dean argued.

"No, Dean, look, I really, really think that we should..." he trailed off. Across the platform was Virgil and Sam's face paled. "Dean!"

"You think you can run?" The angel challenged them and laid his hand on Beatrice's forehead, but nothing happened. She grinned cheekily at him.

"Sorry, dude. Mojo-free zone. Already tested that shit out." She punched him hard in the face. "No magic in the house, which makes you nothing but a dick." She hit him again and he fell to the ground, and Dean and Sam joined in the beating. Suddenly someone was pulling her off and she kicked out defiantly. "No! No, no no no, stop! You don't understand! _No_!"

"You're dead, Virgil," Dean snarled, "I'm gonna break your frigging neck!"

"I don't know," Dean mused, holding an ice pack to his face, "I mean, Virgil broke through. Maybe he's got a way to get back."

"Or maybe he has no juice here, and now he's stuck, like us." Beatrice argued.

"Yeah. Either way, I want to finish kicking his ass."

The three of them stepped out of the trailer to immediately be ambushed by the director. "There you are, guys! You got a minute?" He said with faux enthusiasm.

"Actually, we're.. we're looking for, uh-" Sam started but was cut off.

"For the extra you tried to kill? So, is it money? Is this the kind of act that goes away if we can scare up some coverage on a raise?"

"More money? You already pay these three jokers enough as it is," Dean scoffed.

"Because I'd like to think that over these years, we've grown closer," the director went on, pretending he hadn't heard Dean's snide comment, "that you don't think of me as 'director Bob', or 'executive producer Bob Singer', but as... Uncle Bob."

"Wait, you're kidding. So, the character in the show, Bobby Singer... what kind of douchebag names a character after himself?" Beatrice laughed. "Oh, that's not right."

"Okay, guys, let's begin again," Bob said tiredly but Dean talked over him.

"You know, I don't think Virgil would have shagged out of here without getting his mitts on that key," he said and Sam nodded in agreement.

"Guys," Bob said loudly, "you can't come to work on poppers and smuggle kidneys in from Mexico and make up your own lines as you go! You cannot make up your own lines! Good God, what about your _careers_?"

"You know what? Screw our careers, Bob." Sam snapped.

"What?"

"You heard my brother," Dean nodded, "that's right, I said brother, because you know what, Bob? We're not actors. We're hunters. We're the Winchesters. Always have been, always will be. And where we're from, people don't know who we are. But you know what? We mattered in that world. In fact, we even saved a son of a bitch once or twice a year. And yeah, okay, here, maybe there's some fans who give a crap about this nonsense-"

"I wouldn't call it nonsense."

"But Bob Singer, if that even is your name, tell me this, what does it all mean?"

"Okay, this is good. I mean, we've all had our psychotic breaks, right? I can work with this."

"Dean," Beatrice said softly, "Virgil, I think he has the key."

"We quit." Dean said.

Jared's house was quiet when they returned. "Maybe we can get on the police dispatch system," Sam thought aloud and Dean and Beatrice nodded in agreement.

"Put out an A.P.B on Virgil. Might work, if he stays obvious."

"It's not like we have a lot of time." Beatrice reminded them.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!" Genevieve burst out of the room, sobbing hysterically. "Misha! He's been stabbed to death!" She was followed closely by Wednesday, who looked at them with an unreadable expression in her eye.

The three of them looked at each other, and in sync, said, "where?"

"Where?" Genevieve demanded.

"I'll sort it, Gen," Wednesday said softly, "you stay here and wait for the police." Genevieve retreated back into the bedroom and Wednesday approached the trio, "I don't know what's going on here, but we had a call from Bob, and.. you're either crazy, or you're telling the truth. I've seen enough shit on this show that it wouldn't surprise me, so... I want to help."

Beatrice's face lit up. "Let's go."

"Yeah, yeah. Raphael. Like the ninja turtle," the homeless man told them earnestly, "he was calling someone name of Raphael, up in heaven. Yeah, yeah, that's right. The scary man killed the attractive crying people, and then he started to pray. And the strange part, after a while, I swear, I heard this voice, answering."

"What did it say?" Wednesday asked. Having her with them was almost like being joined by Fred. It was odd, but Beatrice was grateful for the female company.

"Well, it didn't make any sense," the man said awkwardly.

"Try us," Beatrice urged him.

"The voice said for Virgil 'to return tomorrow' at the place where he crossed over 'at the time of the crossing', and Raphael would 'reach through the window and take him and the key home'."

"Okay, thank you." Wednesday slipped out her purse and handed the man fifty Canadian dollars like it was nothing. Beatrice looked uneasily at Sam and Dean.

"If Virgil gets back with that key, Cas is dead, and our world is toast."

"Well, then we stop him," Dean said, "I mean, how bad can an angel with no wings be?"

"You know that if we drop Virgil, get the key, then... this might be it. We might be stuck here." Dean thought aloud as he paced the set anxiously. Wednesday was watching from the armchair, chewing her lip nervously. Beatrice looked at Dean sharply, not wanting to think about being stuck.

"No, we'll figure out a way back."

"Yeah. You wouldn't be that broken up if we didn't, though."

"What? Don't be stupid."

"Well, I'm just saying. No hell below us, above us only sky."

"Dean, our friends are back there." Sam reminded him.

"Yeah, but here, you've both got a pretty good life. I mean, Sam, back home the hits have been coming since you were six months old. You got to admit, being a bazillionaire, being married to Ruby and Beatrice to Cas, it's no contest."

Beatrice wanted to point out that she didn't need Misha, she loved Sam, but then she remembered they'd been apart since the fairy case. Neither of them had asked the question.

Sam stared at him. "No. You know, you were right. We just don't mean the same thing here. I man, we're not even brothers here, man."

"Alright then. Let's get our crazy show back home."

"Guys, I just wanted to say, um, if none of this is real..." Wednesday trailed off with a sigh, "I want you to know how much of a pleasure it's been to work with you. The 'you' that I know, anyway. And, Laura, Beatrice, I want you to know that I never loved Misha. I'm actually gay. It... it was always you that I loved. I just.. never told you. I'm sorry."

Beatrice smiled weakly and hugged Wednesday tightly. "When we go, I'd like to think that Jared, Jensen and Laura will come back. Tell her, Wednesday. She won't hate you forever. I'll make sure of that." There was gunfire outside the set and Beatrice dodged the bullet, but Wednesday wasn't so lucky. Blood pooled on the front of her t shirt and she collapsed forward into Beatrice's arms. "No!" She cried. Virgil stepped into the set and Dean ambushed him from the side.

"Dean! Got it!" Sam yelled as he tackled Virgil and emerged victorious with the key. The window started to glow and Sam's eyes widened. "Raphael. Run!"

The world stilled around them. Beatrice closed her eyes, terrified, and when she opened them seconds later she was in a motel parking lot with Sam, Dean and a smartly dressed woman, with no Wednesday or TV set to be seen. "You two have the strangest luck," the woman said casually, inspecting her long, manicured nails.

"Raphael?" Beatrice spluttered, "dude looks like a lady."

Raphael squeezed her fist and the three of them doubled over in pain. "The key," she picked it up from the ground as Beatrice struggled to right herself, determined to get to it first. Balthazar appeared behind Raphael and grinned.

"And that will open you a locker at the Albany bus station. You see, I needed a modest decoy to make it more convincing." Balthazar said, a smile haunting his lips.

"Give me the weapons!" Raphael yelled.

"Sorry, darling. They're gone."

"_What_?"

"I said, too bloody late. You see, they were so well hidden that I needed time to find them. So, I volunteered these three marmosets for a game of fetch with Virgil. You three were such an adequate stick. Thank you."

"You've made your last mistake," Raphael snarled, readying herself to attack.

"Oh, I've got a few more up my sleeve, honey."

"Step away from him, Raphael," Castiel threatened, appearing beside Beatrice, "I have the weapons now. The power is with me. If you don't want to die tonight, back off."

"Well, Cas, now that you have your sword, try not to die by it." Balthazar smiled. The parking lot morphed into Bobby's living room and Beatrice realized Cas had safely transported them away from the fight.

"Cas, what the hell?" Sam demanded, "wait, wait, you were in on this? Using us as a diversion?"

"It was Balthazar's plan," Castiel explained, "I would have done the same thing."

"That's not comforting, Cas." Dean said.

"When will I be able to make you understand? If I lose against Raphael, we all lose. Everything."

"Yeah, Cas, we know the stakes. That's all you've told us!"

"I'm sorry about all this. I'll explain when I can."

He disappeared and Dean groaned. "Frigging angels!" He exclaimed loudly, making Beatrice jump. Sam approached the wall and knocked lightly. Relief flooded his face.

"Solid. It's real. Nice."

"Yeah," Dean smiled, despite himself, "yeah, real, moldy, termite-eaten home sweet home. Chock full of crap that want to skin you. Oh, and uh, we're broke again."

"Yeah, Beatrice smiled, "but hey, at least we're talking." The front door opened and closed and Bobby and Fred came in, armed with shopping bags filled with liquor. Beatrice flew at Fred, pulling her into a tight hug. "God, am I glad to see you in one piece."

"What the hell happened here?" Fred asked.

"Long story." Beatrice parted. "Listen, Sam, there's something I wanted to talk to you about-"

"No, Bea, let me." He said, then looked around at the others who were watching intently. He cleared his throat loudly and they scattered into the hallway, closing the door behind them. "Bea, I... I know things haven't been great, recently. I must have put you through hell." He took her hands and Beatrice felt tears spring into her eyes, "I love you, Beatrice, I really do. And I can't bare spending another moment alive when I know that I might have lost you forever." He paused to slip her engagement ring out of his breast pocket. The tears slipped down her face.

"You kept it." She whispered.

"Of course. I knew it would come in handy when I regained my soul." Sam got down on one knee and Beatrice couldn't help the sob that escaped her lips, "so I thought I'd do it properly. Beatrice Wells, will you marry me?"

Beatrice laughed tearfully. "Yes!"

Sam stood and slipped the ring onto her finger, spinning her around and pressing a long kiss to her lips. The door flew open and Dean, Fred and Bobby all came back in. "Finally!" Dean laughed.

Safe in Sam's arms, Beatrice looked around at her little dysfunctional family and realized she wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

"I got to tell you, Redd," Fred said absently as she paced around the chair, twirling the knife in her hands, "for a filthy, lower-than-snake-spit Hellspawn, you seem to have turned yourself into a fine hunter. I don't know whether to kill you or kiss you." She crouched in front of the chair, her hands resting on the arms. She was within killing distance now; if it wasn't for the devil's trap above his head and the ropes on his arms, he definitely would have tried. He laughed in her face.

"Oh, please, kill me." He cooed.

"That was you that dug out that nest of vamps back in Swan Valley, wasn't it?"

"That was nice work," Sam agreed behind her.

"Eight of em' in one go," Redd boasted, "roped and tied."

"And you brought them to Crowley, right?" Fred asked.

"Read the papers, Peaches, the king is dead."

Fred rolled her eyes and splashed a little holy water onto his neck, but it was enough to make him cry out. "Crowley's alive. You prove it just by being, you poor, dumb jackass. Crowley's alive. His nets are still out. Except now, he's using you to hunt his monsters."

"Up yours," the demon snarled. Fred sighed in mock pity.

She motioned towards Sam and he handed her Ruby's knife. "Redd, where's Crowley? No? Nothing? Oh, okay, then. Here, hang on to this for a bit." She stabbed the knife into his leg and then left with Sam to join Beatrice, Dean and Bobby in the kitchen. "What's the hubbub?" She asked, pouring herself a drink.

"I saw Cas," Dean said, "he popped in on me about two hours back."

"What'd you tell him?" Bobby demanded. Fred felt her heart sink. She was hoping the topic of Cas wouldn't come up for a few days at least. She wanted enough time to find him and interrogate him herself without the others getting involved. At least Dean was on her side. He shrugged, leaning back against the counter.

"Nothing, alright? Told him we were on some crap monster hunt. He doesn't know that we're getting close to Crowley. You know, he's our friend, and we're lying to him through our teeth."

"Dean-" Sam started, but Dean cut him off.

"So he burned the wrong bones," he said, his temper flaring, "so Crowley tricked him."

"He's an angel," Beatrice reminded him softly. Dean narrowed his eyes.

"He is the Balki Bartokomous of Heaven! He can make a mistake!"

"Nobody's saying anything yet."

"You think Cas is in with Crowley?" Fred challenged them. "_Crowley_?"

"Look, I'm just saying I don't know," Beatrice held up her hands innocently, "I hate myself for even thinking. But... I don't know. Look, he's our friend too, okay? I'd die for him, I would, but... look, I'm praying we're wrong here."

"But if we ain't," Bobby said darkly, "if there's a snowball of a snowball's chance here, that means we're dealing with a Superman who's gone dark side. Which means we've got to be cautious, we got t be smart, and maybe stock up on some Kryptonite. Look, one problem at a time here. We got to find Crowley now, before the damn fool cracks open Purgatory."

"On it," Fred mumbled, not wanting to be in the kitchen with them for a moment longer. As she left the kitchen she stopped, she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling of being watched. She looked over to the window, but managed to brush the sensation away and crouched in front of Redd again who was sweating profusely and cursing under his breath. Fred twisted the knife. "Where's Crowley?" She demanded. He screamed in agony.

"Up yours!" He snarled. She twisted a second time, and he sobbed out, "I don't know where Crowley is!"

"Are you sure about that? Because we can twist again all the way to next summer," Fred offered, tapping the hilt of the knife to punctuate. The demon cursed again. Loudly.

"Oh, God. I never even met him! I don't deal with Crowley direct."

"Well, who do you deal with?"

"The dispatcher. A demon named Ellsworth."

Beatrice lifted her hand and the door blew off its hinges. Sam met them in the lounge. "Clear from the back," he said, looking just as clueless as the rest of them did.

"Demon get tipped and bugged out?" Fred suggested.

"Maybe then run from us now, I mean, that would be a nice thought, right?"

"Yeah, if that's what happened," Bobby laughed bitterly.

"Yeah."

Beatrice peered into the kitchen. "The place is clean," she commented with raised eyebrows, levitating a few items to check for blood stains or anything else untoward but there was nothing.

"Yeah," Bobby agreed, "but it's like... 'Mr Clean' lean, you know? It's kind of OCD for your average demon."

"Yeah. So what now?"

"We'd call Cas." Fred said without thinking, then flushed red.

"What?"

"This is usually the point where we would call Cas for help."

"We talked about this," Bobby said tiredly.

"No, you talked. I listened. This is Cas! I mean, when there was no one, and we were stuck and I mean _really_ stuck, he broke ranks. He has gone to the mat cut and bleeding for us so many times. This is Cas! He is my _soulmate_. Don't we owe him the benefit of the doubt at least?" She said desperately. No one said anything so she took that as a sign to pray, "Castiel, this is really important, okay? Please, Sweetheart, we really need to talk to you. _Please_."

"Castiel," Dean joined her, "come on in." There was nothing. Cas looked at her pitifully, "Cas is busy." He said. He smiled like he was trying to comfort her but it didn't reach his eyes and Fred sighed.

"That's alright, we are too." Sam said, "come on."

"Back to square one." Bobby said.

"Great," Beatrice mumbled, "well, what do we do now?"

"Well, we caught one hunter demon before. We can do it again."

Beatrice turned on her heels to come face to face with a demon. She cried out and threw her hands up, but he intercepted her attack and threw her to the ground. She tried to crawl away, but he grabbed her legs and pulled her back, sitting on her waist and slamming her head against the ground. She heard Sam call her name, but when she looked to them for help she saw they were all under attack and she inwardly cursed.

There was a bright light suddenly and the demons crumbled into ash. Beatrice lifted her head. "It's good to see you, Cas," she said with a weak smile. The angel stepped over the pile of ash and helped her up.

"You all alright?" He said.

"Yeah. Perfect timing, Cas." Sam smiled.

"I'm glad I found you. I come with news."

"Yeah? What?" Dean said a little too excitedly.

"I firmly believe Crowley is alive."

"Yeah. You think, Kojak?"

Fred turned smugly to the others. "Well, what do we think about Cas saving our asses again?"

"I think we owe you an apology," Bobby said sheepishly.

"Why?" Castiel asked. He looked confused, but Fred looked at him and something didn't feel right. She wanted to believe that he was good, _truly_good, but one look in his eyes and she knew he was hiding something from her. Castiel could never lie to her.

"We've been hunting Crowley this whole time," Sam admitted, oblivious, "and keeping it from you."

"We thought you were working with him." Beatrice added.

"You thought what?" Cas looked genuinely hurt, but only for a moment.

"I know. It's crazy, right?" Dean grinned.

"It'd just that you torched the wrong bones. It doesn't matter. We were wrong," Bobby said.

"You know, you could have just asked me." Castiel pointed out.

"And we should have," Dean agreed, "we should've never doubted you. It's... I just hope you can forgive us." He looked hopefully at the angel who smiled weakly and nodded. "Thanks."

"It is a little absurd, though." Cas said, "Superman going to the dark side. I'm still Castiel."

Fred's heart seemed to stop. She looked at Castiel, and he saw the hurt swim into her eyes and he knew that she knew. The others, however, he wasn't so sure. "I guess we can put away the Kryptonite, right?" Dean said with a weak smile.

"Exactly."

"No." Fred said firmly.

"Freddy, you heard him! He's been watching us," Sam said, frustrated not only with Castiel's lies but Fred's inability to admit what was going on. She knew Castiel had betrayed them, but she didn't want to believe it. "We don't have much of a choice. You're the only one he ever listens to, you know that."

"I can't do it," she said, "I need more time, alright?"

"You had time. And we're still no further on!"

"_Fine_." She said angrily, "but.. if we're wrong, I will never forgive you for this. None of you." She turned around and looked up to the ceiling, "Castiel, I need you."

That was all it took. The angel appeared in front of her, though he looked surprised to see the others. "Hello." He said. Fred hesitated, and then stood on her tip toes and kissed him quickly, maybe for the last time. Castiel returned it, but she felt him holding back a little. _What's this about, Fred_? She heard his voice in her head but didn't answer.

"I'm sorry, Cas," she mumbled against his lips.

"Johnny on the spot," Bobby said as they parted. Fred could feel his eyes burning into the back of her head.

"You're still here." Cas said.

"Yeah. We had to deal with the bodies." Beatrice said, "and we found a little whiskey. Thanks for coming."

"How can I help?"

"Oh, look," Sam said awkwardly, "we um, we have a new plan. We think we've finally figured a way to track down Crowley."

"What is it?"

Bobby lit a match and dropped it on the floor by Castiel's feet, igniting the ring of holy fire surrounding him. "It's you."

"What are you doing?" Castiel demanded. He looked at Fred, devastated. Tears filled her eyes and she looked down, not wanting him to see her cry. It was painful enough already.

"We have to talk, Cas," she whispered.

"About what? Let me go!"

"About Superman. And Kryptonite."

"How'd you know what I said?" Bobby asked.

"How long have you been watching us?" Sam demanded, and Dean added,

"you know who spies on people, Cas? Spies!"

"Okay, just wait," Castiel attempted to defend himself, "I don't even know what you mean!"

"What about this demon craphole?" Beatrice challenged him, "how is it so, uh, 'next to godliness' clean in here? And how exactly did Crowley trick you with the wrong bones?"

"It's hard to understand, it's hard to explain, just... let me go. Let me out and I can-"

"You've got to look at me, Cas," Fred pleaded, finally looking up at him. He saw the tears streaming down her face and how her hands disappeared inside her long sleeves and his heart broke, "you have to level with me and tell me what's going on. Look me in the eye and tell me you're not working with Crowley." She looked at him and he stared back, but deflated under her gaze and looked away. "Oh."

"Let me explain-"

"You're in it with him? You and Crowley have been going after Purgatory together? This whole time..."

"Winifred, I did it to protect you. I did it to protect all of you!"

"Protect us how? By opening a hole into monster land?"

"She's right, Cas," Bobby said regretfully, "one drop got through, and it was Eve. And you want to break down the entire dam?"

"To get the souls! I can stop Raphael. Please, you have to trust me."

"Trust you?" Beatrice exploded, "how in the hell are we supposed to trust you now?"

"I'm still me. I'm still your friend!" He turned to Sam, desperate, "Sam, I'm the one who raised you from Perdition."

"_What_?" The youngest Winchester stared at him for a moment, "well, no offense, but you did a pretty piss poor job of it. Wait... did you bring me back soulless on purpose?"

"How could you think that?"

"Well, I'm thinking a lot of things right now, Cas."

"Listen, Raphael will kill us all. He'll turn the world into a graveyard. I had no choice!"

"No, you had a choice," Fred said, "you just made the wrong one."

"You don't understand! It's... complicated."

"No, actually, it's not, and you know that. Why else would you keep this whole thing a secret, huh, unless you knew that it was wrong? When crap like this comes around, we deal with it. Like we always have! What we don't do is we don't go out and make another deal with the devil!"

"It sounds so simple when you say it like that. Where were you when I needed to hear it?" Castiel regretted the words as soon as he'd said them and he saw the heartbreak on Fred's face.

"I was there," she sobbed, "where were you? You should have come to us for help, Cas."

"Maybe." He admitted. There was a loud gust of wind and Castiel looked at the window, alarmed, before he turned back to the others, "it's too late now. I can't turn back now, I can't!"

"It's _not_ too late! Damn it Cas, we can fix this!"

"Winifred, it's not broken! Run, you have to run, now! RUN!"

Everyone had gone to bed. Fred had tried, but she'd spent so long staring at the ceiling in the dark that eventually she'd just given up. She'd tried reading Bobby's books. She'd tried watching the television. But nothing captured her attention for more than minutes at a time. She flopped back on the sofa with a soft groan.

"Hello, Winifred."

Fred's head snapped up. Castiel was stood at the end of the sofa, looking at her with remorse in his eyes, but she refused to be taken. She propped herself up on her elbows, glaring at him, "how'd you get in here?"

"The angel-proofing Bobby put up on the house, he got a few things wrong."

"Well, it's too bad we got to angel proof in the first place, isn't it?" She got up and brushed past him, facing the window with her arms folded tightly over her chest, "why are you here, Cas?"

"I want you to understand."

"Oh, believe me, I get it. Blah, blah, Raphael. Right?"

"I'm doing this for you, Winifred. I'm doing this because of you!"

"Because of me? Yeah, you've got to be kidding me."

"You're the one who taught me that freedom and free will-"

"You're a child, you know that?" She turned around to face him, the sadness in her face gone and replaced with anger, "just because you can do what you want doesn't mean that you get to _do_ whatever you want!"

"I now what I'm doing, Winifred."

"I'm not gonna logic you, okay? I'm saying.. don't. Just because I'm asking you not to. That's it."

"I don't understand."

"Look, next to the boys, and Beatrice and Bobby, you're the closest thing I have to family. You're my soulmate, Cas. I love you more than I've ever loved another person, more than I thought possible, so... if I'm asking you not to do something, you have to trust me."

"Or what?"

That took her aback, but she steadied herself and looked him dead in the eye and said, "or I'll do what I have to do to stop you."

"You can't, Winifred," he reminded her, "I'm an angel."

"I don't know, I've taken some pretty big fish."

Castiel sighed, rubbing his forehead as though tired of her. "Winifred, I don't want to lose you. I... I can't lose you." He went over to her and placed his hand gently on her cheek and despite herself she felt herself melting into his touch. "Isn't.." he swallowed hard, "isn't there anything I can do to fix this, for us?"

Fred clamped her teeth together to stop a sob escaping. "Castiel, you abandoned me. For a year. You let me think that you didn't love me anymore, or that you.. you were dead, for a year. And.. maybe that should have been when I walked away but I didn't, because I loved you. Because I thought you had a good heart," she rested her hand lightly on his chest, "but.. I can't go on like this, pretending everything's okay when it _isn't_. Can't you see that it's been broken for a long time?"

"I'm sorry, Winifred," he said, and stepped back.

"Well, I'm sorry too, then."

"Enough of these games," Raphael said angrily, "give us the blood."

"You," Crowley said to the archangel with an air of false charm, game's over. His jar's empty. So, Castiel, how'd your ritual go? Better than ours, I'll bet."

A bright light shone from Castiel's chest, filling the room. Fred backed away, shielding her eyes. She felt Beatrice's hand on her arm, trying to pull her towards the exit but Fred couldn't move. She couldn't leave Castiel on his own, despite everything. "You can't imagine what it's like," he said as the light faded, "they're all inside me. Millions upon millions of souls."

"Sounds sexy," Crowley nodded, "exit stage Crowley." The demon disappeared. Raphael looked at Fred and Beatrice, terrified. Beatrice never though she'd find herself agreeing with him, but now, she was just as scared.

"Now, what's the matter Raphael?" Castiel cooed mockingly, "somebody clip your wings?"

"Castiel, please," Raphael pleaded, "you let the demon go, but not your own brother?"

Fred felt Beatrice let go of her arm. She didn't look to see where she went. She was transfixed on her boyfriend, an angel she had been so passionate to save but who she had ultimately let down. "The demon I have plans for. You, on the other hand..." Castiel snapped his fingers and Raphael exploded. The blade he'd been holding clattered to the ground. He turned to Fred, "so, you see, I saved you." He mused. His voice was childish. It frightened her.

"Sure thing, Cas," she said, her voice shaky, "thank you."

"You doubted me, fought against me, but I was right all along."

"Okay, Cas, you were. I'm sorry. Now, let me defuse you, okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're full of nuke; it's not safe! So, before the eclipse ends, let's get them souls back to where they belong." Fred stepped forward, her hand outstretched but Castiel laughed and sent her straight back. "Castiel?"

"Oh, no. They belong with me."

"No, Cas! It's.. it's scrambling your brain!"

"No, I'm not finished yet. Raphael had many followers, and I must punish them all severely."

"Listen to me," she begged, "listen, I know there's a lot of bad water under the bridge, but we were family once. I loved you! I'd have died for you, I almost did a few times. So, if that means anything to you... please, I've lost my family, Cas. I've lost everything. Don't make me lose you too. You don't need this kind of juice anymore, Cas. Get rid of it before it kills us all."

"You're just saying that because I won. Because you're afraid." Cas sighed. Behind him, Fred saw Beatrice pick up Raphael's angel blade, but she said nothing. It hurt her, but she knew it was the right thing to do, deep down. "You're not my family, Winifred," he told her, "I have no family."

Beatrice plunged the blade into Castiel's back, impaling him, but nothing happened. Castiel pulled the sword out, dry, and inspected it carefully. "I'm glad you made it, Beatrice, but the angel bade won't work, because I'm not an angel anymore. I'm your new God. A better one. So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your lord. Or I shall destroy you."


	7. Chapter 7

Season 7

Behind Beatrice and Fred, Sam, Dean and Bobby came in. Beatrice was surprised to even see Sam alive after what Castiel had done to him. Bobby looked at Cas, then back to the girls, and as he understood what was going on he slowly got to his knees. "Well, alright then," he said weakly, "is this good, or you want the whole 'forehead to the carpet' thing?" He looked expectantly at the others, "guys?" At his words, Beatrice, Sam and Dean started to kneel but Fred remained standing.

"Stop," Castiel held up a hand, "what's the point if you don't mean it? You fear me. Not love, not respect, just fear."

"Cas-" Beatrice attempted but he interrupted her.

"Beatrice, you have nothing to say to me. You stabbed me in the back. Get up."

"Cas, this isn't you," Fred pleaded. She wanted to touch him, to take his hand and to make him see that this wasn't necessary but she looked into his eyes and knew he was gone, maybe forever.

"The Castiel you knew is gone."

"So, what? You're going to kill us?"

"What a brave little ant you are." Castiel stepped towards her, getting right in her face and she had to clench her fists to stop herself punching him, "you know you're powerless. You wouldn't dare move against me again, that would be pointless. So I have no need to kill you. Now now. Besides.. once you were my favourite pet before you turned and bit me."

"Who are you?"

"I'm God," Castiel said, "and if you stay in your place, you may live in my kingdom. If you rise up, I will strike you down." He turned to the youngest Winchester brother who Beatrice was struggling to hold up, "not doing so well, are you Sam?"

"I'm... fine," Sam mumbled, then cleared his throat and tried again, "I'm fine."

"You said you would fix him!" Beatrice said angrily, "you promised!"

"_If_ you stood down, which you hardly did," Castiel berated her, his eyes narrowing and she was concerned for a second that he would smite her then and there, "be thankful for my mercy. I could have cast him back into the pit."

"Cas, come on, this is nuts! You can turn this around, please!"

"I hope for your sake this is the last time you see me."

The angel disappeared and silence filled the room. Beatrice looked at the others, terrified, and then she saw Sam's nose begin to bleed. "Sammy? You okay?" She asked, brushing his hair back from his face. He collapsed in her arms, falling to his knees and clutching his head as he cried out in pain. "Sam? Sammy!"

"So, you fixing her or primal screaming?" Beatrice watched, somewhat bemused as Dean tried his best to fix the Impala. He grinned at her as he got out and accepted the beer she was holding out for him.

"Ah, thanks. How's Sam?"

"Still under, but alive."

"And Fred?"

Beatrice bit her lip, "she hasn't stopped crying since we got back."

Dean rubbed the grease from his forehead with his sleeve, "my heart breaks for her, Bea, it really does. What about God part deux?" That was the part he wanted to ask the least. Beatrice shrugged.

"So far nothing."

"And what exactly are you looking for?"

"Miracles, mass visions, trench coat on a tortilla... I don't know what I'm looking for." She admitted with a deep sigh. Dean tried to smile.

"Ah, well, he'll surface."

"So say we do suss out where 'new and improved' flew off to.." Beatrice trailed off, looking at Dean uneasily. He raised an eyebrow and leaned back against the Impala.

"Yeah?"

"The hell do we plan to do about it?"

"I don't know, Bea," Dean's smile dropped, "I got no more clue than you do."

"I don't even know what spells to hit for this, Dean."

"Well figure it out! I'm _sorry_. This ain't in no spell book. If you stick your neck you, Cas steps on it. So you know what I'm gonna' do?"

"What?"

"I'm gonna fix this car. Because that's what I can do. I can work on her until she's mint. And when Sam wakes up, no matter what shape he's in, we'll glue him back together, and Freddy too. We owe them that."

Beatrice managed a weak smile and nodded. "I'm with you."

She clapped Dean lightly on the shoulder and returned to the kitchen where Sam emerged from the living room moments later. "Hey, Bea," he said sleepily, startling her but she turned with a genuine smile on her face. She set down the carton of milk she'd just taken from the fridge

"Ah, you're walking and talking."

"Yeah, I uh, put on my own socks, the whole nine." He joked weakly.

"Well that's uh, I mean you.. uh... you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. My heard hurts a little, but... basically."

"Seriously?"

"Look Bea, I'm as surprised as you are, but yeah, I swear."

"Good! No reason putting a gift horse under a microscope, right?"

"Yeah. So what happened with Cas."

Beatrice's face fell. The question she had been dreading. "Why don't you come help me with the dinner, and I'll fill you in." She suggested. Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes but Sam didn't seem to notice.

"Okay."

Fred hadn't slept in three days. When she closed her eyes, she saw blood. She saw fire. She heard a screaming voice; her own voice, and Castiel's hands doing the hurting. She was starting to struggle to tell the difference between what was a fabrication of her sleep deprived brain, and what was a telling of the future.

She hugged the trench coat a little closer to her chest. It had stopped smelling of Castiel to her about a day and a half ago, but Fred couldn't bring herself to let go. It was all she had. She'd never known one man to own so many of the same coat. She often wondered if he had one coat he never washed, or multiple coats, all identical. As it would happen, they were all slightly different variations of beige. It was the most Castiel thing Castiel had ever done.

Only, he wasn't Castiel anymore. He wasn't an _angel_ anymore, not even the God he fancied himself as; he was a monster. He had not only broken her heart; he had destroyed it.

Fred sniffled, burying her face in the coat, trying to suppress a sob. She had cried all of her tears. There was nothing left inside of her. Just pain. Aching, agonizing pain. "Castiel," she whispered into the pale brown fabric, "and I mean _my_ Castiel, the one who isn't a damn psycho. If you're out there, somewhere, if... if you can hear me then please, _please_, come home to me. Please Castiel. I love you, I love you so much."

_You can come with me._ She heard his voice in her head and she stopped, sitting upright and breathless in bed, _you can be just as powerful as me. You can rule with me._

Fred shook her head, "you know that isn't what I want."

_ Then you are just like the others. Then, like them, you must die._

"_The sudden deaths of some two hundred religious leaders are currently under investigation. The Vatican has yet to issue a statement, but some are already calling this an act of God."_ The news reporter said grimly as the screen cut to an interview with a happy go lucky woman, "_we all saw him,_" she said excitedly, "_no beard, no robe. He was young, and... and sexy. He had a raincoat-_"

Fred turned the TV off.

Beatrice lifted the hood of the Impala, pausing her work to tune her ears into the radio Dean had balanced on the roof of the car. ".._.believed to be the target hits high up in white-supremacy organisations. The FBI now believes the Ku Klux Klan has been forced to disband_."

Beatrice sighed and slammed the hood shut. "Can't argue with that one."

"_A freak lightning strike on the heels of the fire that burned down the Centre for Vibrational Enlightenment early today. Said a spokesman, 'this tragedy represents the largest loss in new age motivational speaker history'_."

"Motivational speakers?" Sam questioned with the hint of a bemused smile.

"Yeah, I'm not sure new Cas gets irony any better than old Cas," Beatrice sighed as she sat up in bed and turned the television off. "Of course, old Cas wouldn't smite Madison Square Garden just to prove a point. He is off the deep end of the deep end. And there's no slowing down."

"So, what? Try to talk to him again?"

Beatrice stared at him like he'd lost his mind. "Sam..."

"Bea, all we can do is talk to the guy."

"He's not a guy! He's _God_. And he's pissed, and when God get's righteous, you get the hell out of the way. Haven't you read the bible?"

"I guess."

"Cas is never coming back. He's lied to us, he used Fred, he cracked your gourd like it was nothing. No more talk; we have spent enough on him." Beatrice said it so fiercely that Sam nodded somewhat submissively.

"Okay."

Beatrice was surprised to find Fred sitting up at the sofa, flicking through an old spell book like she hadn't a care in the world. "So, seen Sam lately?" Fred asked without looking up, startling Beatrice as she collapsed onto the sofa beside her. The older girl shrugged like she didn't know what Fred was asking.

"Yeah, why?" Beatrice asked. Fred said nothing. "What? Well, spit it out."

"How is he even vertical?" She replied finally after a short but tense silence, "I mean, Cas broke his damn pinata." Fred flinched as she said her boyfriend's name and hoped Beatrice wouldn't notice and even though she did, she didn't say.

"I know."

"I mean, I get how he came to help us back at the lad, adrenaline, sure, but..." Fred trailed off and set the book on the coffee table, finally turning to face Beatrice, "now?"

"Well... he says he's okay."

"How?"

"I don't know. I just pray to God it's true."

Fred smiled bitterly, "we need to come up with a new saying for that."

"Seriously though Freddy, look at our lives. How many more hits can we take? So, if Sam says he's good... good."

"You believe that?"

"Yeah... no. You wanna know why? Because we never catch a break! So why would we this time? I just...just this one thing. You know? But I'm not dumb. I'm not going to get my hopes up again. I'm not."

"Hey." Beatrice startled a second time as Sam entered the living room behind them and she flushed shamefully, concerned he might have been eavesdropping. If he had, he didn't let on. Fred however smiled warmly and sat on her knees, looking at Sam over the back of the sofa.

"Hey, how are you feeling Sammy?"

"Can't complain," the youngest Winchester smiled back.

"Great!" Beatrice cut in, "what's the word?"

"Well, a publishing house literally exploded about an hour ago. The guy has a body count that's really getting up there. We gotta' do something."

"What we've got to do is hunt the son of a bitch," Fred suggested, "unfortunately, I lost my God guns."

"Well, I mean, is there some kind of heavenly weapon? Maybe out of that angel arsenal that Balthazar stole? There has to something that can hurt him," Sam said, starting to get desperate.

"He's God, Sam, there's nothing," Beatrice reminded him but then paused for thought, looking excitedly at the other two, "but there might be _someone_!"

Beatrice lifted a hand expectantly over the smoke signal and the three eagerly watched the devil's trap as Crowley appeared unwillingly inside the devil's trap Fred had painted, whiskey still in hand. "No no _no_! Come on!" The demon groaned, attempting unsuccessfully to step out of the trap.

"Don't act so surprised," Fred shrugged.

"My new boss is going to kill me for even talking to you." Crowley complained.

"Well you're lucky we're not stabbing you in your face, you little piece-"

"Whoa, wait," Sam cut Beatrice off mid rant, "what new boss?"

"Castiel, you giraffe."

That peaked Fred's interest. She stepped away from the wall she'd been lingering by and unfolded her arms, approaching Crowley in a way she thought was intimidating, which for a short nineteen year old girl in a yellow summer dress, it was. "Castiel is your boss?"

"Is everybody's boss. What do you think he's going to do if he finds out we've been conspiring? ...you do want to conspire, don't you?" Crowley raised an eyebrow and Fred rolled her eyes.

"No, we want you to just stand there and look pretty."

Crowley glared at her. "Listening."

"We need a spell to bind Death," Beatrice interrupted the less-than-pleasantries.

The demon stared at her like she'd lost her mind. "Bind? _Enslave death_? You having a laugh?"

"Lucifer did it," she reminded him.

"That's Lucifer."

"A spell's a spell. And we have a witch. A damn powerful one," Sam said.

"You really believe she can handle that kind of horsepower? She flayed my demons from the inside out and it almost killed her, near enough did. You're delusional!"

"Death is the only player on the board left that has the kind of juice to take Cas," Beatrice said tiredly, not a fan of being a hot topic of conversation when she was stood only a meter away.

"They'll both mash us like peas. Why should I help with a suicide mission?"

"Look," Fred snapped, "do you really want Cas running the universe?"

Crowley looked down into the blazing eyes of the young girl and back up at Beatrice and Sam with a sigh, both of whom were looking at him intently. He poured himself a drink.

Fred had slept properly that night for the first time in days. She came downstairs, feeling somewhat optimistic, just in time to see a piece of paper slide under the front door. She stooped to pick it up, peering through the letterbox to see who had left it but Bobby's front yard was deserted. She straightened up and unfolded the paper just as Dean came into the hallway. "It's from Crowley," she said, holding it up to show him. He could see the incantation written on the page.

Dean smiled weakly. "Well, who feels like hog tying Death tonight?"

"Old age is overrated anyway."

They returned to the living room where Beatrice was sipping coffee and Sam flicked absently through an old spell book. Fred handed the paper to Beatrice, who scanned it and then set it on the coffee table in front of her, "well, we've got most of this stuff, but we're going to have to make a run for a few things."

"Like...?" Dean prompted her.

"Like an act of God crystallised forever."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam asked, eyebrows raised.

"I think it means an actual crystal. See, lightning strikes sand at the right angle, it crystallises into the perfect shape of itself." She explained, sketching a diagram on the back of the spell.

"Lightning. An act of God," Fred mused.

"Bingo."

"And let me guess. Rare?" Dean said. Beatrice nodded. Fred looked up from her laptop, triumphant.

"I found records of an auction! Winning bidder lives about nine hours from here."

Beatrice grinned at her. "Freddy, you're a genius."

"I found the God thingy." Dean said proudly and passed it to Bobby.

"Well, let's light this candle."

"You're welcome," Dean muttered.

Beatrice rolled her eyes and ignored the pair of them. She waved her hand over the top of the altar and the three large candles ignited, and they stayed lit under her magic despite the chill that blew through Bobby's front room. "Te nunc invoco, mortem. Te in mea potestate defixi. Nunc et in aetermum." She paused and looked up. "Uh... hello? Death?"

"You're joking."

Beatrice whipped around at the sound of a voice. Fred, Dean, Sam and Bobby all stared behind her. "I'm sorry, Death," Beatrice made an attempt at a smile, "this isn't what it seems."

"Seems like you bound me." The suited man said coldly.

"For good reason, okay?" Dean said desperately, "just uh, hear us out." He rummaged in his bag and emerged victorious with a bag of chips which he held out to Death. "Um, fried pickle chip? They're the best in the state!"

"That easy to soothe me, you think?" Death scoffed but took the bag anyway, "this is about Sam's hallucinations, I assume?"

Beatrice's head snapped to her boyfriend and her eyes narrowed. "_What_?"

Sam looked away from her sheepishly as Death said, "sorry, Sam. One wall per customer. Now unbind me."

"We can't. Not yet," Sam tried to be firm but his voice shook.

"This isn't going to end well," Death sighed.

"We need you to kill God," Fred interrupted sharply. Death looked at her like she'd lost her mind and he smiled, half intrigued, half playful. A shiver ran down Fred's spine.

"Pardon?" He challenged her.

"Kill God. You heard right, your... honour."

"What makes you think I can do that?"

"You told us."

"Why should I?"

"Because... we said so. And we're the boss of you. I mean... respectfully."

There was a flurry of wings directly to Fred's left. "Amazing." Castiel said sarcastically. Fred backed away from him, her eyes blown wide with panic. "I didn't want to kill you," he went on, "but now..."

"You can't kill us," Beatrice told him.

"You've erased any nostalgia I had for any of you, Beatrice."

"Death is our bitch," Beatrice smirked, "we're not going to die, even if you pull the trigger."

"Annoying little protozoa, aren't they?" Death said to Castiel, "'God'? You look awfully like a mutated angel tome. Your vessel's melting. You're going to explode."

Castiel glared at him, "no, I'm not. When I've finished my work, I'll repair myself."

"You think you can because you're simply under the weight of all those souls, yes? But that's not the worst problem. There are things much older than souls in Purgatory, and you gulped those in, too."

"Irrelevant. I control them."

"For the moment."

"Wait," Fred interrupted, "uh, what older things?"

"Long before God created angel and man, he made the first beasts. The Leviathans." Death explained evenly to her. "I personally found them entertaining, but he was concerned they'd chomp the entire petri dish, so he locked them away. Why do you think he created Purgatory? To keep those clever, poisonous things out. Now Castiel has swallowed them. He's the one membrane between the old ones and your home."

"Enough," Castiel snarled.

"Stupid little soldier you are."

"Why? Because I dared open a door that he shut? Where is he? I did a service, taking his place."

"Service? Settling petty vendettas?"

"No. I'm cleaning up one mess after another. Selflessly."

"Quite the humanitarian."

"And how would you know? What are you, really? A flyswatter?"

"Destined to swat you, I think."

"Unless I take you first."

"Really brought his own press, this one. Please, Cas. I know God. And you, Sir, are no God."

"Alright, put your junk away, both of you," Beatrice snapped. She turned to Death with fire in her eyes, "look, call him what you want. Just kill him, now!"

"Alright. Fine." Death looked over at Castiel who snapped his fingers, releasing him. "Thank you. Shall we kick box now? I had a tingle I'd be reaping someone very, very soon." He chuckled as Beatrice started to back away, "don't worry. Not you." He tore open the bag of pickle chips as Castiel disappeared. "Well, he was in a hurry."

Beatrice shifted uneasily. Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Death cut him off, "shut up, Dean. I'm not here to tie your shoes every time you trip. I warned you about those souls... how long ago? Long enough to stop that fool. And here we are, again, with your little planet on the edge of immolation."

"Well, I'm sorry. Alright?" Dean said angrily, "I've been trying to save this planet, so maybe you should find somebody better to tip off." Beatrice put her hand on his arm and he was, for a moment,calmed.

"Maybe I should spent my effort on a better planet," Death mused, "well, it's been amusing."

"Wait," Sam said his voice strained almost painfully with desperation, "hold on. _Hold on_. Just... can you give us _something_? You... you have to care a little bit about what happens to us."

"You know, I really don't. But I do find that little angel arrogant."

"Great," Fred said tiredly, "let's go with that."

"Your only hope is to have him return it all to Purgatory. Quickly."

"We need a door," Sam reminded them.

"You have everything you need at that lab. Get him to return there and compel him to give up the power."

"Compel?" Fred said softly.

"Figure it out."

"But that door only opens in the eclipse," Bobby said, "and that's over."

"I'll make another," Death said, "3:59 Sunday morning, just before dawn. Be punctual. Don't thank me. Clean up your mess. Try to bind me again, you'll die before you start. Nice pickle chips, by the way."

Beatrice watched as he disappeared.

"We got to hit the road," Sam said into the silence, "I mean, how are we supposed to get Cas to that lab by friggin' 3:39 am?"

Dean and Beatrice exchanged an uneasy look. "We don't," Dean said finally.

"What do you mean, 'we don't?" Fred demanded.

"I mean, we cant bring the horse to water. And we can't make it drink. Why fool ourselves?"

"Dean, look, I know you think Cas is gone-"

"It's because he is."

"He's not! He's in there somewhere! I know it!"

"No you don't."

Fred visibly deflated and her eyes filled with tears. "No. I don't."

"Look," Sam said softly, "I was pretty far gone sometimes myself. And you never gave up on me. None of you."

"Yeah," Beatrice said sharply, "and it turns out that you're about the same open book you've always been. Hallucinations? _Really_? I got to find out from_Death_?"

"What was I supposed to do?"

"How about not lie?" Dean cut in, "how about telling us you've got crazy crap climbing those walls?"

"Why? You can't help. You got a lot of pretty severe crap swinging your way lately, and I thought why burst the one good bubble you had left? It's under control."

"What? What exactly is 'under control?'"

"I know what's real and what's not."

"Sam-"

"Dean, look, we can debate this once we deal with Cas."

"Yeah, you know how I'm gonna deal? I'm gonna stuff my piehole. I'm gonna drink, and I'm gonna watch some Asian cartoon porn and act like the world's about to explode, because it is." He paused to look at the news report playing on the TV, "you've got to be kidding me. 'Massacre at the campaign office of an incumbent senator by a trench coated man'. There's security footage. Well, I think reaching Cas is uh, off the cards."

Fred paced anxiously up and down the lab. She tugged at her dress, trying to rationalise her thoughts, but ultimately failing. Beatrice watched her from the doorway into the lab. Fred had convinced everyone to join her at the lab to let her try to contact Cas, the _real_Cas. She didn't know how she'd done it, but she had, and now the moment had come and she had no idea what to say.

"Alright," she mumbled, smoothing down the creases in the front of her dress, "Castiel, I know you're out there. And I know that there's still some good left in you, alright? We can stop this, together, but I need you here. Let me help you, Castiel. Let me fix this."

"Winifred?" Castiel appeared in front of her on the staircase.

"Cas?"

"I heard your call? I need your help."

Fred's lower lip trembled. "Is... is it really you?"

Castiel came down the stairs towards her. He placed his hand on the back of her neck and drew her towards him. "I heard your prayers," he told her softly, "every night. I wanted to come to you, but I couldn't. I couldn't risk hurting you." He pulled back, resting his hand on her cheek, so soft he barely touched her at all. "Would you forgive me?"

Fred nodded. A tearful smile came to her face. "I never doubted you for a second."

"What do we need, Castiel?" Beatrice mumbled.

Cas turned to face her. "We need the right blood. There's a small jar, end of the hall, supply closet."

She nodded, and turned to go, but he called her name and she stopped. "What? Do you need something else?" She said without turning to face him. Cas hesitated.

"No. I feel... regret. About what I did to you. And to Sam."

"Yeah. Well, you should."

"If there was time, if I was strong enough... I'd fix him now. I just wanted to make amends before I die."

"Okay."

"Is it working?"

"Does it make you feel better?"

"No. You?"

"Not a bit."

They moved to the door to leave, but Bobby stopped them, "hang in there, just a couple of minutes. Where's Sam? It's go time."

"Damn it," Dean mumbled, "he's in the basement. We have to leave him. There isn't enough time."

Beatrice knelt on the cold ground, organising spell books and candles in a small altar. "That's good enough," she mumbled, then turned to the angel, "step right up, Cas."

Fred grabbed Castiel's forearm. "Whatever happens," she said tearfully, "I will always love you. Never forget that. Promise me, Cas, promise me you won't forget." She tugged urgently at his sleeve and he nodded.

"I promise. I love you too, Fred." He pressed his lips to her forehead, lingering on her skin for a moment, and then he approached Beatrice who smiled weakly at him, almost apologetically.

"Ianua magna purgatorri, clausa est ob nos lumine eius ab oculis nostris retento sed nunc stamus ad limen huius ianuae magnae et demisse fideliter perhonorifce paramus aperire eam."

As Beatrice mumbled the incantation, Castiel looked at Fred over his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Winifred."

"Creaturae terrificae quarum ungulae et dentes nunquam tetigerunt carnem eius ad mundum nostrum nunc ianua magna, aperta tandem!" Beatrice threw her arms into the air. The candles grew to a meter high, and then went out. As the light dimmed, Castiel collapsed back on the ground, his eyes unseeing. Beatrice reached out and lightly touched the back of his hand. "He's cold."

"Is he breathing?" Fred asked fearfully.

Beatrice hesitated before whispering, "no."

"Maybe... angels don't need to breathe." Fred said desperately. Bobby placed a hand on her shoulder, trying his best to comfort her but he knew it meant little.

"He's gone, Freddy," he said softly.

Fred let out an agonised scream. She fell to her knees, cradling Castiel's head in her lap. "No! No, you can't be gone, you stupid son of a bitch! Come back!_ Come back_!" She sobbed. Castiel's eyes flickered. Fred stared, stunned, as his eyes opened and his chest began to rise and fall, flowing into a steady rhythm.

"That was unpleasant." He muttered. He looked up at Fred with a weak smile. "I'm alive."

"Hey, Cas," she whispered back, tears still rolling down her cheeks.

"I'm astonished." He sat up, and with Beatrice and Fred's help, got slowly to his feet. "Thank you. All of you."

"We were mostly just trying to save the world," Beatrice said, smiling softly.

"I'm ashamed," Castiel admitted, "I really overreacted."

Dean laughed. "You think?"

"I'm gonna find some way to redeem myself to you."

"Alright. Well, one thing at a time. Come on. Let's get you out of here, come on." Fred slipped her arm around Castiel's waist to support him and guide him out of the lab towards the Impala.

"I mean it, Winifred."

"Okay, alright. But let's get you home and find Sam, okay?"

Castiel smiled, but then he stopped. Fred could feel his heart racing under his coat and he pushed her away with all his strength. "You need to run, now!" He yelled, "I... I can't hold them back!"

"Hold who back?" Fred cried.

"They held on inside me, Winifred. They're so strong!"

"_Who_?"

"Leviathan! I can't fight them! _Run_!"

"Cas? I don't understand!" Fred sobbed.

Castiel looked up at her. Black fluid crept up the veins in his neck towards his face. A manic grin played on his lips. "Too late," he taunted her in a sing song voice. Fred felt her blood run cold.

"Cas?" She whimpered.

"Cas is... he's gone. He's dead. We run the show now. Ah. Oh, this is going to be _so much fun_."

Fred stared blankly at Castiel. Tears rolled down her cheeks but she didn't seem to notice them. If she did, she didn't bother to wipe them away. Her knees gave out beneath her, and Beatrice rushed to her side, catching her just before she hit the ground. Dean lingered to their side. "How many of you ass-clowns are in there? A hundred? More?" Dean challenged the newly possessed angel, "your vessel's gonna explode, isn't it? Wouldn't do anything too strenuous. In fact, I'd call it a day. Head on home, huh?"

Castiel cracked his neck. "We'll be back. For you."

He pushed past them and left the lab. No one made any attempt to stop him. Bobby anxiously wrung his hands. "Well. This is a new one."

"I'm going to get Sam." Beatrice mumbled. Dean replaced her at Fred's side as she rushed downstairs into the basement, where Sam was backed up against a wall. His eyes were squeezed painfully shut and there were beads of sweat forming on his forehead. His muscles were strained under his clothes, and he looked like he was suffocating.

"No," he panted, "you're not real."

"Sam?" Beatrice rushed to him, resting her hand lightly on his chest. His heart raced underneath her hand. "You hearing me? Whoa, look at me. Hey, you're alright. We have to get out of here. Come on. Sam! Come on!"

His eyes snapped open. His breathing slowly returned to normal and his gaze fixed on Beatrice. "Bea? What's going on?"

"There's no time to explain. We have to go. Now!"

Breathless, Sam followed her outside to the reservoir. Dean, Bobby and Fred were already there, watching hopelessly as Castiel walked into the pool. His head disappeared under the water, and a black whirlpool appeared in the centre before disappearing. Fred sobbed quietly, leaning on Dean for support.

Castiel's brown trench coat floated to the bank of the reservoir and Bobby fished it out, pressing it lightly into Fred's hands. She buried her face in the damp fabric and screamed. "If they're in the pipes, they've got themselves a highway to anywhere," Bobby said quietly to Sam and Beatrice. Beatrice looked out at the reservoir.

"Yeah. Okay. So, he's gone."

"Yeah. Rest in peace, if that's in the cards."

Beatrice sighed, rubbing her forehead, "dumb son of a bitch."

"Well, he was friends with us, wasn't he? Can't get much dumber than that. Come on, those things will be coming up for air soon." Bobby motioned to the group to return to the Impala. Dean guided Fred, still clinging to the coat, sobbing silently. Beatrice watched her, biting her lip and fighting her own tears.

"I just feel for Freddy."

Bobby nodded sadly. "Me too."

Beatrice came into the living room where Sam was still sleeping on the couch. His features looked pained, like he was deep in some horrific nightmare. She sighed, sitting on the edge of the sofa beside him and resting her hand on his shoulder. "Sammy? Sammy, hey-" She said softly but he jumped, startling into awakening. "It's only me," she reassured him. "That's twelve hours straight. I'm calling that rested. Here." From the coffee table she handed him the bottle of water and protein bar she'd brought in. "Hydrate. And uh, protein-ate." She said with a weak smile, which Sam returned.

"Breakfast in bed," he noted.

"Don't get used to it."

"So, ooze invasion, any leads?" He said hopefully, but Beatrice shook her head.

"Whatever they're up too, it isn't about going Mothra down Main Street. They'll turn up," she paused for thought, nibbling her lip, "you seem pretty eager to stretch your legs, you know."

"Mm," Sam didn't look at her. She looked at him intently. Dean came into the room behind her but neither Sam or Beatrice acknowledged the oldest Winchester.

"Now onto our other big problem," Beatrice went on, "how're you doing? And do not say 'okay'."

"I'm not okay," Sam admitted. Dean scoffed.

"You think?" He snapped.

"Hey." Beatrice scolded him, "go a little easy."

"There's nothing easy about it Bea, okay? We acted like he had everything under control."

"I get it. I'm sorry! Look, I didn't exactly want to crack up, you know?" Sam defended himself.

"What the hell happened back there?" Dean challenged.

"Well... it's not just flashbacks anymore."

"Well then _what_?"

"It's more like... I'm seeing through the cracks."

"What does that mean?" Beatrice asked softly, taking his hand in hers.

Sam hesitated before answering, "it means I'm having a hard time figuring out what's real."

"Hallucinations?"

"For starters."

"Well, for starters, if you're tripping Hell's Bells, why would you hide that?" Dean snapped. Sam sighed.

"I wasn't hiding it, Dean. I was just... not talking about it. I mean, it seemed like you two had enough going on as it was. Look, I... I just figured, try to hold onto the safety bar and ride it out, you know? But it's getting more specific." He explained, avoiding both of their gazes. Beatrice placed two fingers under his chin and gently tilted his head up to look at her.

"As in specifically what?" She asked.

Sam closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. "It's him. He... he tells me I'm still there. With him, in the cage. That... none of this is real, that he fabricated it for me."

"Why would the Devil holodeck you a whole new life when he could just kick your ass all over the cage?" Dean asked, pouring himself a tall glass of strong whiskey.

"Because, as he puts it, you can't torture someone who has nothing left for you to take away."

"Okay, fine," Beatrice nodded, starting to understand the situation a little bit more,"but this Malibu dream mansion that he makes for you to take away is this post-apocalyptic mess?" Sam didn't answer her, and her eyes widened, "wait, are you seeing him right now?" She gasped. Sam nodded, "you know that he's not real. Right?"

Sam smiled but it was pained. "He says the same thing about you."

Beatrice sat at Bobby's dining room table, telepathically rolling a small ball up and down the wood. Bobby tapped slowly at the computer, and in the other room on the sofa, Sam took apart his gun. Bobby looked over at Beatrice. "Well, at least he's not curled up under the sink," Bobby said, trying to offer some comfort.

"Yeah, no, he's just sitting there silently field stripping his weapon." She got up from the table and slipped Sam's phone out of his jacket which had been hung up over the back at the door. Bobby watched her.

"What are you doing?"

"Turning on his GPS in case he decides to fly the cuckoo's nest," she explained and slid the phone back into his pocket when she was done. Bobby sighed deeply and turned around in his chair to face her properly.

"And you? How are you doing?"

It felt like a long time before Beatrice answered. "Seriously, Bobby. It's not like he's been hexed, you know? I mean..." she trailed off, looking to the door to make sure she couldn't be heard before saying to him in a hushed but terrified voice, "what if this is the kind of crazy you can't fix?"

"Yeah, I'm worried too. But humour me for a second. How are _you_?"

"Who cares?" Beatrice laughed bitterly. "Don't you think our mailbox is a little full right now? I'm fine."

"Right. And weren't you pissed at him when he said the same thing just a couple of hours before he spilled his marbles all over the floor?" Bobby challenged her. Beatrice was quiet for a moment again.

"Yeah. Well, I'm not Sam, okay? I keep my marbles in a lead box. I'm fine. Really."

"Of course. Yeah. You just lost one of the best friends you ever had. Your fiance's in the bell jar, and Purgatory's most wanted and surfing the sewer lines, but yeah, I get it. You're fine."

"Good."

"Of course, if at any time you want to decide that's utter horse crap, well I'll be where I always am. Right here." He offered. Beatrice smiled at him, and for a second, it was a real, genuine smile.

"What, you want to do couple's yoga, or you want to get back to hunting the big bads?" She teased him. There was a mischevious glint in her eye that Bobby noticed that reminded him of the old Beatrice, before shit truly hit the fan.

He rolled his eyes, and smiled. "Idjit."

Beatrice pushed open the front door with her shoulder. Her arms were full with grocery bags, and Dean followed closely behind, his own embrace weighed down with food. "Hey there, Gunga Din. Buck up." Bobby said as they entered. Beatrice nodded in greeting, out of breath from carrying the heavy groceries which she set on the coffee table.

"Still no sign of Fred?" She asked.

"Hasn't left her room since we got back from the lab," Sam sighed, "and there's more bad news. Stockville North Kansas, most of a high school swim team got mangled to death in their locker room."

"Cop talk on the wire's kind of garbled, saying it looks like some kind of wild animal attack," Bobby explained further, rummaging through one of the grocery bags for a beer, "they're saying that whatever attacked them's about the size a linebacker." He emerged victorious with a bottle and opened it on the edge of the table, drinking from it heartily.

"It's a lead." Sam concluded.

"Alright," Beatrice nodded, "but if you think you're going out on a hunt..."

"No, I know. I'm not. But you are. Look, Bobby's running the hub. I'm 5150'd, which leaves you to follow this thing up."

"Sam, you're in the middle of a psychotic break." Dean said tiredly.

"It's a couple of hour's drive, Dean. And it could be a Leviathan thing."

"Nah, if you think we're leaving you here alone-"

"Hey," Bobby interrupted crossly, "what am I, chopped brains on toast? I can eyeball the kid, and Freddy too. Go. Work off some of those nerves on something useful."

Dean and Beatrice exchanged a glance. He didn't say anything, so she nodded slowly, answering for the both of them. "Fine."

"I'm Special Agent Anderson, this is Special Agent Walker." Dean flashed his badge, and Beatrice did the same, leaning against a wall for support as she looked around the locker room. It was grim.

"Yeah, okay. Our point cop's out on the donut. Forensics," the cop motioned to himself before going on, "I can show you the layout. And step lightly. We got a whole bunch of NC17 shiznickel right over there."

Beatrice nodded, raising her eyebrows. "Right." She moved away from the wall, then stopped dead in her tracks as she spied a smattering of black ooze on the opposite wall. "Dammit." She was quiet until the forensics officer left the locker room and her and Dean were left alone. "I'm gonna call Sam," she said, "this isn't good. At all."

"You're right. I'll go check out the rest of the swim team." He turned to go, but looked back at Beatrice over his shoulder, "this is kinda like old times, huh?"

Despite herself, Beatrice smiled. "Yeah. I guess it is."

She watched him go and then pulled out her phone, dialling Sam's number and holding it to her ear. The receiver clicked as he picked up so she launched into her explanation immediately, "well, we are positive for 'ick'. Same kind of stuff that came out of Cas, and uh, two of the swim kid were missing. They stole one of their parent's cars."

"So you think these Leviathan things jump into people? Like Eve did?" Sam asked.

"I don't know. It makes sense, right? Anyway, uh, state trooper's got surveillance cam on the kids about six hours old, of them gassing up just south of Dakota line, so we're headed back your way. We'll just track them from Bobby's."

"Yeah. Sounds good."

Beatrice noted how distant and uneasy Sam sounded. "How are you doing?"

Sam didn't answer for a minute, but then said, "You know. Uh. Okay."

"Okay. Well, hang in there, alright?" She paused for a split second, "I love you, Sam."

"I love you too." She was surprised by how relieved he sounded, and then the phone went dead.

The Impala pulled up outside Bobby's house. The front door was wide open, and Bobby and Sam were nowhere to be found. Bobby's absence made sense; he'd gone to help Jody Mills. But Sam's was a little more concerning. "Dean," Beatrice looked back at Dean urgently as he got out of the Impala, "Dean, Sam's not here!"

"Where's Fred?" Dean asked, equally as panicked.

"I'll check upstairs." Beatrice rushed up the stairs, knocking desperately on Fred's bedroom door.

The door opened a crack and Fred peered out. Beatrice was taken aback by her appearance. She was dressed in sweats and an old tank top, her hair was scraped back and her face was puffy and swollen from sobbing. "What is it, Beatrice?" Fred said tiredly.

"Sam's missing," Beatrice explained. "Did you hear him go out?"

"I heard him talking to someone. I thought it was you."

"You heard someone else with him?"

Fred smiled bitterly. "I never said I heard anyone reply."

"Oh, dammit Sammy," Beatrice punched the door frame. Her hand came back bruised. "Look, Freddy, if you hear from him..."

"Give you a call. I got it, don't worry Bea. I'm still on your side."

"Right. Thanks, Fred."

Fred closed the door and Beatrice raced downstairs, her heart thundering in her chest, "Fred heard him leave earlier, talking to someone that wasn't really there."

"Oh, this isn't good," Dean groaned, "we have to find him, Bea."

Beatrice nodded, chewing on her thumbnail before she remembered activating the GPS system in his phone. She shouldered past Dean, retrieving her phone from the back seat of the Impala. "He isn't far from here, just a half hour's drive."

"How the hell did he get there?"

"I don't know, but we have to go. Now!"

Beatrice practically dived into the passenger seat as Dean reawakened the engine and they sped into the night. Beatrice could only hold her breath and hope to God that when they got there, Sam would still be alive.

The Impala pulled up outside the warehouse and Beatrice was out of the car faster than she thought she'd ever moved in her entire life. She sprinted into the warehouse, Dean following closely behind her. "Sam!" She yelled, stopping in the doorway to avoid the shower of bullets he was firing at mid air. "Sam, what are you _doing_?"

Sam whirled around, aiming his gun at Beatrice. "Whoa. Whoa!"

"I was with you, Bea!"

"Okay," Beatrice said carefully, "well, here I am."

"No, no... I don't... I.." he trailed off, looking from Beatrice and Dean, to the empty space, back to Beatrice and Dean again. "I can't know that for sure. You understand me?"

"Okay," now we're going to have to start small." Beatrice nodded.

"I don't remember driving here."

There was quiet, and then Sam turned and shot in the direction he'd been firing in a moment before they arrived. "Whoa, Sam!" Dean cried, "this discussion does not require a weapon's discharge!"

Beatrice placed a hand on Dean's shoulder to soothe him, and then she approached Sam slowly, holding her hand out towards him. She could see the terror in her fiance's eyes but she swallowed down a sob. "Look at me. You don't know what's real? We know a thing or two about a torture, huh? Enough to know that it feels different than the pain of this. This... regular, stupid, crappy _this_."

"No." Sam shook his head, "no! How can you know that for sure?"

"Let me see your hand." She urged him. Sam held out his hand but she shook her head. "No, no. Your _injured _hand. Let me see it." She held her own hand out towards him and he lightly placed his injured hand into hers. "This is real. Not a year ago, not in Hell, now. I was with you when you cut it. I sewed it up! Look!" Beatrice gave his hand a light squeeze and reached out for his gun with her other hand. Sam looked beside her into the empty space. His eyes widened. "This is different right? I'm different. Right?"

Sam reluctantly let go of her hand. He let go of the gun. "Yeah," he swallowed hard, "I think so."

Terrified, he looked towards the empty space again but Beatrice shook her head, trying to tear him back into reality. "Sam? Sam!" She cried. Sam looked back at her then pressed his thumb against the cut on his hand. "We got you out, Sammy," she tried to reassure him, "you got out. You're safe now. You're home, with me, and Dean, and Freddy and Bobby. Believe in that! Believe in _me_, okay? You have to believe me. You understand?"

Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, okay." His phone rang in his pocket, startling him, but he slipped it out and answered. "Bobby, hey... Leviathan here?... Great. Thanks, Bobby." He hung up, and turned back to Dean and Beatrice, "Bobby's got a live one."

"Okay," Beatrice said, breathless from the experience, "well, let's go."

Beatrice and Sam sat together in the back of the car as they neared Bobby's house. Sam's head rested on her shoulder and she stroked his hair, curling her fingers around the long strands. "Look, when we get back to Bobby's-" Dean started from the front but Sam cut him off, lifting his head from Beatrice's shoulder to talk to him.

"Its okay, Dean. I'm good. No white rabbits. I'm not seeing anything." He assured him.

"Okay. Baby steps." Dean gave his brother a smile in the rear view mirror which Sam returned but all their faces dropped when they pulled up to Bobby's house, or at least, where Bobby's house had been. All that was left was a smouldering skeleton of the house. "Oh no." Dean's voice was hollow like he was fighting a sob.

They got out of the car and looked up at the house. "Any sign of him or Fred?" Sam asked nervously.

"The place was torched. Somebody knew what they were doing."

Beatrice swallowed hard. Her voice shook as she asked, "you think they were back there?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted. He motioned to the right, indicating that Beatrice and Sam search there while he tackled the left. Beatrice nodded and took off in that direction, calling out for their lost friends.

"Freddy? Bobby?" Beatrice cried. She turned a corner into Bobby's junkyard and stopped.

"Beatrice Wells," The Leviathan grinned at her, "congratulations. Apparently, you three are competent enough to warrant annihilating. I'd take it as a compliment."

A bullet soared through the air and shattered the side of the Leviathan's head and he stumbled, wiping black sludge from his face, but it did nothing else. Fred emerged from behind a car, holding the shotgun with trembling hands. Her face was smudged with soot, but she was alive. That was all that mattered.

The Leviathan's face opened, revealing rows of pointed teeth. Dean and Sam came up behind Beatrice, armed, but the Leviathan knocked Dean sideways into a car, where he collapsed, his leg bent in the wrong direction. Sam aimed a punch at the creature's face but it hits him over the head with a metal bar and he collapsed. It started towards Fred.

Beatrice panicked. She lifted her arms, straining so hard that blood dribbled from her nose, and though her movements were shaky she lifted the nearest scrap car and dropped it on the Leviathan. Black blood pooled from beneath the car and Beatrice dropped her arms, exhausted.

Though shocked, Fred rushed to Dean's side, helping him sit up against the car, while Beatrice collapsed beside Sam. "Sammy? Hey, come on now, come on. Wake up baby. Sammy, wake up!" She turned back to Fred and Dean, tears rolling down her cheeks as she pleaded, "call an ambulance!"

"Oh my God, is he..." Dean trailed off, terrified.

"No. He's... he's alive."

She could hear Fred distantly talking to the emergency services over the phone but she drowned her out, lifting Sam and cradling him in her arms. "You're going to be okay, Baby, you're going to be just fine just hang on!"

She didn't know how much time passed before the ambulance arrived, but paramedics were lifting Sam onto a stretcher away from her, and no matter how much she pleaded, they wouldn't let her into the ambulance with him and Dean. Defeated, she collapsed back onto the ground, watching hopelessly as the ambulance drove away. Fred was at her side, one arm wrapped around her shoulders to comfort her. "He'll be fine, Bea," she said softly, "he's strong. He'll be fine."

Beatrice nodded, burying her face behind her hands so Fred wouldn't see her cry. They looked out towards the horizon until the blue flashing lights disappeared and they could no longer hear the sirens. Neither of them saw the black ooze disappearing under the car, or the hand of the Leviathan beginning to twitch.

"Somebody better be chasing you." Dean said, not looking up from his computer as Beatrice and Sam came into the motel room from outside. Beatrice laughed brightly. She tossed her pony tail over her shoulder and adjusted her sports bra, slipping her running shoes off by the front door. Sam smiled, taking a sport's drink from the fridge to complete their run.

"It's good for you," he said.

"No. No, it's not good for you," Dean insisted, scowling at the couple for their sudden interest in fitness, "look at you. You're a mess, and you stink. Well, while you were out being Lance Armstrong-"

"That would be biking."

"-Fred and I were working. You ever heard of a town called Prosperity, Indiana?"

"Has anybody?" Beatrice asked.

"Two of their fine citizens died over the past two weeks," Fred said. Beatrice thought she'd been holding up surprisingly well recently. She seemed to stand a little taller, smile a little more, laugh a little louder. It was nice to see. "Uh, this one chick," Fred went on, "she uh, roasted underneath one of those beehive hair dryers at the hair salon." She turned her laptop to show them the article, and then pulled up a second article, "and this other guy boiled in a hot tub."

"You don't see a lot of that," Beatrice mused.

"No, you don't." Fred agreed.

"It's worth checking out," Sam said, and Dean nodded.

"Yeah."

Sam looked at Dean carefully like he was considering what to say. "You know, one more thing. What's going on with you?"

"We have had this conversation, Sam."

"No, we haven't. See, to do that, you'd have to uh, sort of... speak."

"Okay, let's see if you can get this straight. See you're... you're new Sam, right? Lance Armstrong."

"Biking," Beatrice reminded him.

"And uh, and I'm still me. Okay? Alright, so, you might see thing's different now, call it a runner's high or some crap, but that doesn't mean that something's going on with me. Okay?"

"Yeah. Okay," Sam said, but he didn't seem convinced and neither did anyone else.

"No, don't say 'yeah, okay' like... 'yeah, okay'."

Sam smiled and bit into an apple. "Yeah. Okay."

"I'm very sorry. I know this is a tough time to have to talk about all this." Sam said apologetically as he flipped open the notebook. The woman sighed and shrugged, resting her elbows against the table and leaning forward slightly. Beatrice could see the tears forming in her eyes.

"I've already been through it so many times with the lawyers, the police, the insurance guys..."

"Right. I know, I know. We just... we have to conduct our own separate investigation. I'm sorry, I know it's tough. Can I ask you, did your sister have any enemies?" Sam asked carefully. She looked mortified.

"Why do you ask that? You think her death wasn't accidental?"

"No, no no no," Beatrice said quickly, "we just have to consider every possibility. Is there anyone who might have wanted to harm her?" She looked at the woman intently, but she only looked more distressed and Beatrice immediately felt apologetic. After all, she knew what it was like to lose a treasured sister, (and a twin she didn't care for so much).

"You don't live here, so you don't know. Everyone loved Wendy. She volunteered at the church. She ran a group for kids. I was the big sister, and I looked up to her."

"What about this man who died?" Beatrice went on, "Carl Dunlap. Did she know him?"

"I don't think so."

"Well, Wendy was in real estate, right? Carl was an architect. Maybe they had some business dealings?"

"If they had worked together, I would've heard the name. If someone did this to my sister... find out who."

Dean lifted the melted remains of the hairdryer with a pencil, grimacing at the charred smell. "And nobody was back here but Wendy?" He asked, looking back at the stylist, who sighed sadly.

"No. But I was only gone for a minute."

"You can't even crank these things past a certain temperature." Fred noted, "am I wrong?"

"If it started to blow a fuse or something it would have shut down."

"Oh. Basically, you're saying that this couldn't have happened."

"Basically, i'm saying it couldn't have happened."

Dean felt around the back of the hairdryer and motioned for Fred to come over and join him, which she did. "The insurance adjusters already did that," the stylist insisted as Fred slipped her hand up the back of the machine and felt around. Her fingers hit something metallic, something still intact, and she slid it out to have a look. She looked down at the little golden coin in her hand and exchanged a glance with Dean, then back at the stylist.

"Thanks for the heads up."

"Well, that'll be all," Dean said, moving away from the machine towards the door, "thank you for your help. We'll be back in contact if we need anything else."

"It's no problem. I'm glad I could be of some help. It's just awful. Really awful."

Fred stepped out onto the street and closed the salon door behind her. "I'm gonna call Beatrice. See if she knows anything about this," Dean said, lifting up the coin to inspect it in the sunlight. He stepped away from Fred and stabbed Beatrice's number into his phone, waiting for her to answer.

"Hey, Dean," Beatrice said on the other end. She sounded disheartened.

"Hey. You find anything?"

"Nothing useful. The victims didn't know each other, and Wendy didn't have any notable enemies. What about you?"

"That's what I'm calling you about. We found some kind of coin."

"Wait, what kind of coin?"

"It's not American. I don't know where it's from. It was wedged back behind one of those machines. Somebody could have dropped it. Of course, they don't have pockets in those robe thingies they make you wear."

Beatrice laughed. "I didn't realise you were such a spa expert."

Dean paused by a bench advertising Wendy's real estate business. On either side of the bench, all the flowers had died. "Shut up. I observe with my eyes," he said, crouching down to get a closer look.

"Yeah yeah yeah, whatever you say. So you thinking it must be some kind of hex talisman?"

"Uh, maybe."

"Alright. Can you pick us up?"

Dean grinned, straightening up, "why don't you just run home, Lance?"

"Dean-"

"Yeah, I'll be there in a bit."

Before they'd even reached the motel, there'd been another one. Beatrice flashed her ID badge, joining Dean, Sam and Fred into the makeshift construction parking lot where the body had been discovered. "So, what do we know about the victim?" She asked, looking at the blood stains on the outside of the cubicle door. She grimaced.

"Dewey Stevens, owner, Dewey Stevens Construction. Biggest outfit in town. Rotarian, Methodist, tenor, blue ribbon pecan pie champ, asthmatic." The police officer listed, counting on his fingers. Beatrice stared at him. "We're a close nit community."

"So this um, pillar of the community," Dean said, "he was taking a leak before he uh, sprung a few?"

"The crew had gone for the day," the officer explained, "site was shut down."

Beatrice peered into the portable cubicle. Dewey's body was still inside with long nails sticking out of his head, most notably his eyes. It was all a little bit Final Destination Three. "Anything unusual beside the nails in the eyes?" She asked.

"Well, we're still trying to figure out where they plugged in the nail gun, seeing as there's no generator on the truck."

"Well, when you figure that out, let me know." Beatrice looked into the cubicle again, and underneath Dewey's foot, discovered another coin, which she picked up and slipped into her pocket. Beatrice and Dean went back into the portable building where Sam and Fred were both working tirelessly at laptops. "So, another victim everybody likes," Beatrice sighed, entirely clueless.

"Not everybody," Sam pointed out.

"Another physically impossible death. You got any ideas?"

"Cirque du Soleil?" He said sarcastically.

"Oh, I found another one of these, just like at the hair dryer slash brain roast." She placed the coin on the table.

"And I found a connection with the victims," Fred said proudly, "these e-mail logs show Wendy the real estate girl, Carl the architect and this Dewey guy were all working on a shopping centre project together."

"Why didn't we know about that?" Dean asked, looking at the screen over Fred's shoulder.

"Well, it all fell apart for some reason. I mean, there are these e-mails back and forth, pretty hot and heavy, and suddenly they just... stopped." She frowned, clicking through the inbox again.

"So, everybody working on this project has died?"

"Well, not yet." Fred said, "they were working with a developer. A guy named Don Stark."

"Don Stark?" Dean frowned, "why do I know that name?"

Beatrice looked up at the large bust of Don Stark outside the office block. "Man, this Stark guy is really plugged in, huh?" She said, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms over her chest.

"So, all the players in this shopping centre project have either fried, boiled or kebabbed. He could be next." Dean said as he reached into his inside jacket pocket and took out a small silver flask which he drank from before putting it away. Sam stared at him, his eyes narrowed in what appeared to be annoyance.

"Really? From a freaking _flask_? What are you, Bad Santa? On the job?"

"We're always on the job," Dean reminded him. He took another drink as Sam's phone vibrated and he checked the message.

"Alright, Bobby emailed back. I sent him a few pictures of those coins you found. He says the writing is Romanian Cyrillic, used only in the mid fifteenth to the nineteenth century. Apparently, it's an antique Wallachian ducat."

"So we're looking for an old Romanian?" Beatrice asked. She trailed off, noticing a patch of dead flowers around the base of the Don Stark bust, even though the rest of the lawn was healthy. "You know, is it just me, or is this really weird?" She asked.

"Huh," Dean crouched down beside her to get a closer look, and he cautiously lifted up one of the wilting flowers with his index finger, "I've seen this once before, where the plants are all dead in one spot."

"Where?" Sam asked.

"A bus bench with Wendy Goodson's picture on it. I mean, I'm no expert, but I don't think plants are supposed to act like this."

Don Stark's home office was large, spacious, and much too bright. Fred, Beatrice, Sam and Dean all crowded around the desk on modern spinning stools. Fred had tucked her feet onto the bar at the bottom of the stool and was visibly resisting the urge to start spinning wildly around the office. "If the bureau's involved, I assume you think all three were murdered." Don said.

"It's looking that way, yes," Beatrice confirmed, "now, Mr Stark, you had a relationship with all three victims, correct?"

"Oh, I knew them in business circles, I guess. Sure."

"And you were involved in a shopping centre project. Why'd that fall through?"

"Uh, these things happen." Don said. A pretty young woman appeared in the doorway behind them, holding a paper bag. "Oh, Jenny, these people are from the FBI. Jenny Klein, my assistant."

"Hi there," Jenny said cheerfully. "Okay, Don, I'm off to the cleaner's, and then I'm gonna stop at Beaman, Beaman and Beaman for the revised contracts."

"Hurry on back. You know how things fall apart without you."

Jenny laughed, then seemed to remember the bag in her arms. "Oh, I baked you some cupcakes. Coconut."

"Coconut! You're too good to me, Jenny."

"I'll see you soon."

The hunters stared at Don until Jenny was out of earshot. Don smiled sheepishly and shrugged, "she... bakes cupcakes."

"Yummy," Fred said sarcastically.

"You know, could you point me to the restroom?" Beatrice asked, "I had a little bit too much java."

"Yeah, around the corner, down the hall," Don said.

"Thanks!" Beatrice replied and left the room. Instead of going down the corridor like Don said, she instead moved silently up the staircase towards what appeared to be a bedroom. To her dismay, it was locked, but she telepathically opened it and went in. The walk in closet was open, and on the floor Beatrice could see a box filled with lots of little items and trinkets pertaining to witchcraft. Her face lit up at the discovery. "Bingo."

Beatrice went back into the office just in time to hear Don say, "but in the end, everyone here respects and admires me." He sounded so smug and proud that she felt guilty to admit she was happy to knock him down.

"Including your wife?" She said innocently. He looked at her questioningly so she went on, "sorry, it's just we heard the two of you were splitting up. Right?"

"Yeah, that's uh, that's what we heard." Dean nodded.

"Yeah. Maggie and I are going through a tough time," Don confirmed with a sombre nod, "it's a separation. Temporary. Sometimes, you know, you grow apart. It's no one's fault." He looked back at Beatrice who nodded but seemed unconvinced, so she pressed on to the surprise of the others.

"And how would you describe the issues between you and your wife?"

"It's just one of those marital misunderstandings, you know?"

"No. I'm sorry, I don't."

"It's one of those vague, hard to define passages."

"She caught you cheating, huh?" Fred said boldly. Dean almost choked on the juice Don had offered him. "I couldn't help but notice things were kind of cordial between you and your assistant. Pretty good with the ladies, Mr Stark? It's a blessing and a curse, isn't it?" A small smirk played on Fred's lips that made Beatrice smile.

"Guys, I'm a people person," Don defended himself, "and I admire dynamic, confident women."

"Admire?"

"Okay, look. It's true I had a recent... little _thing_ with a business associate, but that's all it was."

"A thing?"

"Yeah."

"Like a... like a shoe, or a golf club," Beatrice suggested.

"Right. Like a waffle iron." Fred added. "See, Don, wives generally think of an affair as something more than a 'thing'."

Don laughed good naturedly. "You're young. You wouldn't know what it's like to be in love." He didn't say it with any malice, but Beatrice saw how Fred tensed up. "You see, when Maggie found out about it, she needed some time off, temporarily." He explained, oblivious to Fred's clenched fists and jaw.

Unseen by Don, Beatrice slipped her hand into Fred's which the younger girl gratefully accepted. "If we were to guess that the uh, 'business associate' was Wendy Goodson, would we win the weekend trip to Maui?" Beatrice asked.

"No," Don said a little too quickly, "her death had nothing to do with the affair. It was over long before her accident."

"If it was an accident," Beatrice reminded him.

"You're not implying that Maggie was behind this."

"No, we're not implying anything," Beatrice said with a smile, "we're just saying, you should be careful. And take her to dinner, and apologise. And grovel. It wouldn't hurt." The four of them turned and left the office. When they were out of earshot, back by the Impala, Beatrice stopped them. "Found a bunch of hex junk in their stuff, clearly her thing. And the empty closet didn't seem like she was coming back anytime soon."

"So, Don admires Wendy, biblically, Wendy dies weird, and the scorned wife is into the dark stuff." Dean summarised.

Beatrice nodded, "while Don's just in the dark."

"Hm. It's kind of like 'Bewitched', you know? Don's Darrin, doesn't even know it. A lot of laughs until, uh, you cheat on your wife." Dean wore a big grin that made Sam chuckle and roll his eyes.

"A 'Bewitched' reference? Really?"

"Dude, Nicole Kidman was in the remake. Redhead. Hello!"

Fred rolled her eyes and knelt on the ground beside a patch of dead flowers. "Look at all these dead plants." She mumbled. Beatrice joined her by the lawn, looking at the blackened flowers.

"Huh. It's kind of like the real-estate lady's place and Don's statue thing. You know, if she's strong enough, just being pissed off is enough to send some pretty bad vibes their way. Literally kill off everything around her just by PMS-ing at it. That's... not creepy at all."

"You think she's a born witch?" Sam asked as Dean moved away from the group to call Bobby.

"Doubt it. Born witches are rare, and judging by all the crap she had in her closet, she's really nursed this craft and built it from the ground up. But she's definitely powerful. Maybe as powerful as a born witch." She explained. Dean came back over, putting his phone back into his pocket and he nodded once.

"He's on it."

Beatrice, Fred and Sam lingered awkwardly outside Maggie Stark's home while Dean searched the interior. They'd been waiting there for ten minutes, and Maggie was due home any second. "What is taking him so long?" Fred grumbled, poking at a pebble on the sidewalk with the toe of her boot.

Maggie's car pulled up to the curb and three of them jumped into action, reaching for their individual badges. "Mrs Stark, could we have a moment?" Sam asked warmly, showing her his badge.

"Of course, um, would you mind coming back in say... half an hour? It's just a really bad time right now." Maggie replied. Beatrice noted how flustered she sounded and wondered what could be so important.

"It's very important that we talk to you," Fred pressed.

"Of course, and I'm happy to. I'm just in the middle of an emergency. Please come back. Thank you!" She side stepped around the three of them. Beatrice's gaze snapped to the car and a loud alarm started to ring. Maggie jumped, startled. She looked at Beatrice as though she suspected her but then turned her attention to the car.

Dean appeared in the upstairs window. Maggie shut down the alarm with a remote and turned back to the house, so Fred shook her leg violently, tripping and stumbling into Maggie's side. "I'm sorry! Uh... restless leg syndrome."

Maggie scoffed and moved away from the three of them, going into the house. Beatrice found herself holding her breath, but seconds later, Dean appeared in the doorway and joined them by the Impala "Spoiler alert," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a photo of Jenny, "Jenny Klein's next. Swiped her photo off a hex deck, but Maggie's gonna notice it's gone eventually. We got to get over to Jenny's."

Fred knocked urgently on the door. "Nobody's answering," she said, frustrated. Equally frustrated, Beatrice lifted a hand and blew the door from its hinges. The four of them burst into the house. Jenny was retching blood over the sink. "Find the coin!" Fred yelled, helping Jenny to sit down on the floor.

Sam, Dean and Beatrice immediately started hunting for the coin. "Come on!" Fred urged them desperately as Jenny choked on the blood. Finally, Beatrice snatched the coin from the top of the cupboards, and she hurled a fire ball at it. Slowly, blood stopped dribbling from Jenny's lips and she was able to sit unaided, though it took her a minute to catch her breath.

Fred helped Jenny to sit on the sofa and Beatrice sat on her other side. "There were tiny beating hearts in my cupcakes," Jenny said shakily. "There were hearts in my cupcakes. _Hearts in my cupcakes_! That's never happened before! Hearts in my cupcakes!"

"Should I slug her?" Fred offered. Beatrice shook her head.

"Give it a second."

"Oh my God, what just _happened_?" Jenny stammered.

"You were hexed," Beatrice explained.

"Hexed? Who are you people? What the hell do I do?"

"What you do is you go in there and you pack a bag. You get in your car. And you go," Dean said.

"Go where?"

"It doesn't matter. Look, five hundred or six hundred miles ought to do it," Sam added, "you got someone real powerful real pissed, and they're trying to get rid of you now."

"In line with that, you might want to cool things with Don Stark," Fred continued.

Jenny looked at her, clueless. "Don Stark? What are you talking about?"

"You and Don. You know."

"'You know?' There's no 'you know'."

"No?"

"Don Stark is my boss! That's _it_. He's married, for God's sakes."

"Yeah, well..."

"Me and Don Stark Ew!"

The Impala pulled up outside Don's office block just in time to watch his bust shake and explode. He watched, devastated, from inside his car while Maggie observed from a window. "Now she's just getting nasty," Dean said, "killing the girlfriend is one thing, but the commemorative bust? That's got to hurt."

"She'll take the whole town out, Dean. She doesn't care who gets in the way." Beatrice said.

Dean's phone rang in the glove compartment and he answered. "Hey, Bobby. What do you got?... Yeah?... You think that'll take her out?... Alright... No, I don't need to write it down. I'll remember. Go ahead... Mm-hmm... The- wait, hang on. Hang on!" Dean gestured to Beatrice who handed him a notebook and pen, "yeah... Wait... Hold on. Hold on. Hold on!... Okay, what was the uh, what was that last one?... Right... Uh-huh... I'll remember. It's fine."

"Do you have to spread all your crap all over the table?" Beatrice said crossly, moving her laptop out of the way and narrowly avoiding a splodge of pie that Dean dropped from his fork. He grinned.

"Dude. Pie." He said. She rolled her eyes and moved her work to the bed. Sam and Fred came into the motel room behind them, carrying two large plastic bags which they dropped beside the pie. "Ugh, that is-"

"Chicken feet, just like the recipe calls for. Butcher's fridge is down."

"I can smell that," Dean cringed.

"Uh, says the power's been wonky and that he's lost so much product, he probably won't make the rent," Fred said uneasily, "ditto every shop on the block. Nothing but burst pipes and blackouts. He says it's like all of a sudden, the town ran out of luck.

"So, coincidence, right?" Dean said sarcastically.

"Yeah, we're past the point of dead flowers," Fred sighed.

"What can I say?" Dean said. "I guess the witch is pissed. All right, let's, uh... we better get a move on here. Why don't you just..." He trailed off and picked up the bag of chicken feet, holding it at arm's length, "can you take the feet?"

The Impala pulled up outside the auction house to find police cars and caution tape already set up. "What the hell?" Beatrice mumbled as she got out of the car. They flashed their badges to a couple of officers by the door, who let them in. There was a pool of blood on the floor, and a body covered with a sheet.

"Okay. I guess she didn't do this to her own auction." Sam said.

"No. Obviously it was someone who hated her guts and wanted her party trashed."

Sam and Beatrice exchanged a glance. "Don Stark." The group left the auction house and returned to the Impala. "So, the mister's a witch himself. That meant we've got not just one pissed off witch. We've got too. It's a full on War of the Roses."

"Bewitched just got a lot less funny," Dean grumbled, "it's like when they switched Darrins."

"Where is she?" Fred said impatiently. She felt as though she'd been waiting for Maggie to show up for hours. Dean turned around in his seat to face her as they talked.

"She'll be here. They've been throwing thunderbolts at each other's favourite toys. There's nothing left to destroy but each other. This is basically ground zero," he explained and turned around again.

"I hope so," Sam added, "we're gonna need them both in the same place if we're going to take them down."

Maggie's car pulled up near the house and Fred instinctively slid down in her seat to avoid being seen. The others did the same. When Maggie had gone into the house and closed the door behind her, they snuck into the house, Beatrice carrying the bowl of chicken feet and other ingredients. "Furor divina virtute in infernum eam detrude!" She chanted, catching the witches' attention. She dropped a lit match into the bowl, but nothing happened. Maggie scoffed.

"Let me guess, chicken feet? Not chilled?"

"For obvious reasons, you won't be leaving this room," Don said, "well, you will be leaving. Just not alive. Maggie?" The couple grinned at each other and raised their arms, speaking in Latin in unison.

"Beatrice, now!" Sam yelled. Beatrice threw her arm up, but the power of the two witches combined was too much for her and they threw her into the adjacent wall, knocking her out cold. Sam looked at her, horrified, and then turned back to Dean and Fred, "okay," he said, trying to remain calm, "plan B."

"What's plan B?" Fred asked.

"Talking. This is obviously a domestic dispute. So if you can't kill them, counsel them!"

"Yeah. You know what? Not my area!" Fred yelled back.

"Okay, okay okay! Uh..." Dean trailed off, searching desperately for something to say, "look, obviously you two are capable of wiping each other out, okay? But you haven't. Which means that you still value whatever it is you've got. And you want to keep that dance going. Maybe it's punishment. Maybe it's sick, messed up, erotic, kinky, clamps and feathers kind of love."

"Okay, that's going way too deep there, cowboy," Sam cut in, "look, what he's trying to say is that you two, whatever it is you have, you're bonded!"

"Are you out of your mind?" Maggie yelled, "he cheated on me. Humiliated me!"

"We're not trying to say what Don did was right. When a relationship cracks, usually both parties have a part in it."

"Indeed." Don nodded.

"You're defending him?" Maggie raised her arm and Sam collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain. Dean and Fred looked at him, horrified, neither of them wanting to be the next to speak for fear of pissing her off further.

"Whoa, okay, look. Nobody can defend Don, right? Uh, totally, but uh, we get that you feel betrayed," Dean fumbled awkwardly for the right words, "because you were..."

"Don't suck up to her!" Don telepathically threw Dean backwards towards the glass door.

"I was betrayed by all of them," Maggie said, "Carl introduced you to Wendy. Dewey covered for you. Wendy did you!"

"I don't think Don was lying when he said he regrets the whole Wendy thing," Sam insisted, getting to his feet as the pain subsided, though he was still a little bit shaky.

"Thing? Sit down." Maggie clicked her fingers and Sam collapsed again. "I think the only thing he regrets is getting caught."

"Wendy was nothing to me!" Don insisted, "it was over as soon as it started."

"She was a part of a pattern, okay? I've had eight hundred years of this. Do not make me bring up the Renaissance!"

"Oh, you're one to talk! Does 1492 not ring any bells?"

"The man was about to set sail! He could possibly fall off the edge of the Earth. I took pity. So what's your excuse?"

"I told you. Nothing happened with the Medici chick. You've just always been insanely jealous."

"Oh, I wonder why! Jenny. Wendy."

"Jenny? Nothing happened with Jenny. She's just my assistant."

"Stop it!" Fred's sudden cry stilled the room. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides and there were tears welling up in her eyes. No one said anything. "Just _stop it_. My boyfriend is _dead_. I had to watch him die, and he suffered. He was in pain, and he _suffered_. I will never get to tell him that I love him, never get to say sorry for everything I did wrong. But you have that chance, okay? So please... please, just stop it. And fix this!" She paused to let out a little cry she'd been doing her best to suppress, but couldn't hold in anymore, "please, while you still have the chance."

Maggie and Don looked at each other awkwardly. "Is that true? About Jenny?"

"Yes. I swear it, Babe. I would never. I made a mistake. I'm sorry, Maggie."

"See? Guys, you're talking!" Sam said excitedly. Him and Dean got to their feet, "all these years, you buried your anger and disappointment until it tore you apart. All you needed to do was talk."

"And I would have missed the nuking that my melon just took. Well, who wants that?" Dean added.

Maggie rolled her eyes and flung Dean backwards again, while Don conjured a swarm of bees to circle his head. Maggie smiled warmly at her husband. "Nice touch."

"Thank you. The girl is right, I couldn't kill you. All I ever wanted is you, Mags. I've been crushing on you since forever. You're the woman that I want to never grow old with."

"I could never murder you either, Don. It's crazy, but... true."

"Somebody want to call these things off? Excuse me!" Dean yelled over the buzz of the bees. Sam laughed and picked Beatrice up in a bridal lift, carrying her to the door. She stirred in his arms, looking up at him.

"Mm, Sammy?" She mumbled.

"Hi, Sweetheart," he said softly, "you hit your head pretty hard back there. Just take it easy."

Don clicked his fingers, calling off the bees. Sam, Dean and Beatrice left the room before the witches changed their minds, but Fred hung back a little bit. "It was very honest what you told us back there." Don said.

Fred shrugged, hanging her head awkwardly. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "I don't want anyone to have to go through what I've been through. It's the worst feeling in the world."

"He'll come back to you." Maggie nodded. Fred smiled sadly.

"I wish I could believe you."

As soon as they returned to the motel, Dean was drinking from his flask again. Sam watched him with an eyebrow raised and Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh, give me a break."

"I didn't say anything." Sam protested.

"It's been a long day."

"And it's not over a yet." A third male voice joined them. A man emerged from the bathroom and the four of them pulled out their guns. "Hi Sam. Hi Dean. Hi Beatrice. Hi Winifred." He said calmly.

"Do we know you?" Fred challenged him.

"Well, I definitely know you," he nodded. "You're the dead hunters! Well, you will be in a minute." Fred fired her gun but black sludge leaked from the man's chest and the bullet ejected from his ribs without injury. "Sorry," he shrugged, "you're a bit outmatched."

He punched Dean in the stomach, sending him fly across the room. He lifted Fred by the throat, but electricity coursed through his body and he collapsed, dropping Fred onto the floor. She scrambled back and spotted Don in the motel room doorway. "Don," Fred grins, "thank you. We owe you."

"Good God," Don kicked the Leviathan lightly in the ribs, "what is that thing?"

"I guess we should be figuring that out," Sam admitted.

"It is on our to-do list." Dean added.

"You know, find a bottomless pit and drop it in. Spell only lasts for a few days." He went over to the mattresses and lifted each one. There was a coin underneath all of them except Fred's. "Looks like she has a soft spot for you, Winifred," he said, smiling at her, endeared. Fred grinned back. She felt as though the witches had adopted her.

"Maggie? Seriously?" Dean said crossly, "she was gonna kill us? We just saved your damn marriage."

"No, Winifred did. And to be fair, the rest of you tried to kill her. You know how she is when she gets a bug up her ass. Got to love her, right? Right. Bottomless pit. Ciao."

Don turned to go but Fred rushed forward and gave him a tight hug. "Thank you. For everything."

He smiled at her again and ruffled her hair. "Don't mention it, Kid. I'll see you around."

"Absolutely."

Fred watched as Don left the motel. Dean and Sam exchanged a glance. "What the hell is happening?"

Sam was in a suit. Not the kind of suit they reserved for their cases, either. The kind of suit you save for a really special occasion. Fred had received an urgent call from Sam about ten minutes ago to get to the chapel, and Dean had shown up not long after her. Sam had disappeared into the chapel about two minutes before Dean showed up, fully armed and looking confused as Hell. "You have any idea what's going on?" She asked him. Dean shook his head.

"Not a clue." He shrugged. Sam came round the corner and Dean jumped, aiming his gun at him before he realised it was only Sam. Sam looked at him like he'd gone insane.

"Dean, it's okay. You won't need that. Come on." Sam grabbed Dean's arm in one hand and Fred's in the other and pulled them to the altar. He pinned a pink flower to Dean's suit, "apparently, pink is for loyalty."

"Sam, is this... are you getting married?" Fred asked, stunned.

"Bingo!"

"Oh! Right, well, that's incredible! Where's Beatrice?"

Sam looked at her like she was crazy. "Beatrice? Why would she be here?"

"Uh..." Fred and Dean exchanged a glance, "because she's your fiance?"

"What?" Sam looked even more confused. The doors to the chapel opened up behind them and Beatrice came in, looking dazed. She looked like she'd only rolled out of bed ten minutes ago.

"Sammy? I got your call, what's going on?"

Fred looked at Sam, horrified. "You invited her?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Sam rolled his eyes and guided Beatrice to the front pew. The doors opened again and Sam rushed to the altar beside Dean and Fred. He grinned widely, looking excitedly at the bride walking down the middle. Beatrice shot to her feet, her eyes wide and jaw clenched with pure fury. "She looks beautiful," Sam exhaled.

"Tell me this is for a case," Beatrice snarled, "Sam Winchester you piece of shit tell me this is for a case!"

The mystery bride stopped just as she reached the front pew where Beatrice was stood. She lifted the veil, and Beatrice physically recoiled as she saw who was underneath it. "Becky," she spat.

"Beatrice," Becky said cheerfully, completely oblivious to her rage, "I'm so glad you're here!"

Beatrice looked like she was about to throw Becky through the nearest window and she might have done if Dean hadn't grabbed her around the waist and held her back. "Will someone please tell me what the Hell is going on?" Beatrice yelled, struggling violently against Dean, kicking out and nearly knocking Becky over.

"Dean, please control her," Becky sighed. She moved over to Sam and took his hand, smiling dreamily at him, which to Beatrice's horror, he returned, completely seriously. "Sam and I are in love."

"Shouldn't she ask for my permission or something?" Dean asked Sam. Beatrice snarled.

"Or me. His _fiance_."

"You want her to ask for my hand?" Sam asked, stunned.

"How did this happen?" Fred asked, collapsing back into a pew.

"Short version?" Sam asked. Fred nodded wearily. "We... we met. We ate, and talked, and... fell in love. And, you know, here we are!" He gestured excitedly around the church.

"Yeah, I guess I'm all caught up," Fred nodded, "that's... okay. You know what? Ignoring everything, have you forgotten the fact that you're... you know... already set to be married to someone else?"

"Yeah, but-"

"But if anyone knows that, it's me," Becky cut in, "I mean, I read every book. So, open eyes, you know? Open eyes."

Beatrice went limp in Dean's grip and groaned loudly. "I'm going to be sick."

"Beatrice, look, it's simple. If something good's happening, I've got to jump on it! Now, today, period." Sam tried to justify himself, which enraged her further and she started fighting again.

"Dean, I swear, you better let me go right now or I swear to God..." Beatrice growled, and finally Dean let go. She lunged at Sam, hitting him repeatedly in the chest. "What the Hell is wrong with you, asshole? I'm your girlfriend. No, fuck that, I'm your fiance! You asked _me_ to marry you, not some stupid fucking fangirl. I don't... I don't understand." The fight left her and she backed up, looking at Sam with tears in her eyes, "you said you loved me."

"I know. And I'm sorry." He sighed.

"Did you at least make sure she's even really-"

"Salt, holy water, everything," Becky said proudly, "look!" She held out her forearm to show Beatrice the small cut on the skin, presumably left by a silver blade, "not a monster. Just the right girl for your boyfriend."

"Fiance," Beatrice reminded her angrily.

Becky smiled and held up her left hand. "And now, my husband."

"Son of a-" Beatrice lunged again but Dean grabbed her. She managed to get one arm free and swung it, and though she didn't touch Becky, she concentrated enough energy that she may as well have slapped her across the face. Becky recoiled, clutching her cheek where the spell had struck her.

"You know what? I get it. You two need to work this out." She strode away from the scene towards the faux vicar, taking the bill from him and discussing the different items that needed paying for.

"Really?" Dean snapped, "super-fan ninety nine?"

"Dean, look, honest to God, I had the exact same opinion of her as you do. But when we got past the whole book thing, I found out that she's great, and _I _was the dick!"

"Yeah, you know, speaking of the whole, uh, book thing," Fred cut in, "Becky randomly shows up during Vegas week?"

"Yeah." Sam said. Fred looked at him, eyebrows raised and he suddenly got very defensive. "Okay, what are you trying to say?" He challenged her. Fred rolled her eyes and got up from the pew.

"I'm saying maybe she knew you were gonna be here. Maybe Chuck wrote about it."

"Fred, you're paranoid."

"And you're in love?"

"You know what, Fred? All of you? Becky and I are going to go up to her place in Delaware. Why don't you try and wrap your dome around this. Get a little supportive, then give us a call."

Sam clapped Dean on the shoulder and left the chapel with Becky. Dean reluctantly released Beatrice and she sat in the pew, sobbing openly into her hands. "Bea, we're gonna figure this out," Fred assured her, "that isn't Sam, alright? That isn't him. I mean, it's him, but... not _him_. Not here," she tapped the side of her head to emphasise the point.

Beatrice lifted her head, "what?"

Fred smiled, but it was strained. "I'm surprised you didn't pick up on it."

"On _what_?"

"He called you Beatrice."

Beatrice sat up straight, stunned. She hadn't noticed, but Fred had, and she was entirely grateful to her for picking up on it. "You're right," she said, "we'll figure this out. Dean, call Bobby. I want to follow them to Delaware. I want my damn fiance back."

"That's my girl," Dean grinned. He slid out his phone and called Bobby, but he didn't answer, and Beatrice heard him leaving a voice mail across the chapel. "Bobby, hey. I know you're uh, beard-deep in that Oregon nest. We're headed to Delaware to do a little snooping around. Sam is there with his wife. That's right, you heard me. His wife. And uh, it ain't Bea. Call me."

The rental car pulled up into the driveway of Becky's house. "I can't believe you bought them a waffle iron," Fred grumbled from the back seat, "it's a perfectly good waffle iron. And it travels well. We could have kept it!"

"Well, maybe when we sort this mess out, Sam will give it back to us." Dean sighed and got out of the car, approaching the front door with Beatrice and Fred following closely behind. "Are you sure you're ready for this, Bea?" He asked her. She took a deep breath, and though she looked terrified she nodded.

"Yeah. That's not my Sam."

"Right." Dean knocked loudly on the door. It was a moment before Sam opened it, and he looked genuinely surprised to see the three of them on the doorstep. "Us being supportive." Dean smiled, holding up the waffle iron box and wiggling it a little for effect, "congratulations to you and the missus."

"Thanks," Sam said uneasily, particularly being around Beatrice who resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"It's a waffle iron," Fred cut in, "non stick. Yeah, you just, uh..." she mimed opening and closing the iron and then turning a dial, "I actually don't know how to use it. Are we good?" She said. Sam smiled briefly, but nodded, and Fred gave a little cheer. "Good, because we are sniffing a case in this town." She shouldered past Sam into the house, and he stood aside to let Dean and Beatrice in. Becky was already in the sitting room. "The score is," Fred went on, "guy wins Powerball, gets squished by a truck. Second guy went from the bench to the majors, and one week later his face was the catcher's mitt."

"Our first thought was the crossroad demons," Becky said, chewing her thumbnail, "but there's that ten year time frame on collecting souls. Then there's cursed objects, like in 'Bad Day at Black Rock'. But, we haven't been able to connect the victims yet."

"You're working the case together?" Beatrice asked. Her voice cracked noticeably.

"Yeah. I know, right? I mean, I guess all those Chuck Shurley books paid off."

"Alright," Beatrice snarled, enraged for a second time, "I don't know what kind of mojo you're working, but believe me, I will find out. And you will be fucking sorry when I do."

"Beatrice," Sam snapped, "that's my wife you're talking to."

"You're not even acting like yourself, Sam," Beatrice scoffed, "you married Becky."

"What are you saying?" Becky cried, offended, "that I'm a witch, like you? I didn't need powers to enchant him, not like you did. Didn't it ever occur to you that Sam and I are, I don't know, _happy_? That maybe you're the one who ensnared him with your evil powers?" The accusations were so wild that Beatrice couldn't help but laugh.

"Come on, Sam!" She yelled, "guy wins the lotto, guy hits the bigs... alright, obviously people's dreams are coming true in this town. Don't you think this is a little bit of a coincidence?"

"You know what, Beatrice? What Becky and I have is real. And if you can't accept that, that's your problem. Not ours." Sam said so angrily that she was actually quite taken aback, but she recovered quickly and narrowed her eyes.

"Or maybe," she suggested, "she's part of it. Because for whatever reason, you're her dream! If you really do care about her, I'd be worried. Because people who do get their little fantasies or whatever seem to end up dead pretty quick."

"You know, I went after her, Beatrice. Maybe that's what's bugging you, that I'm moving on with my life. I mean, you took care of me, and that's great, but... I don't need you anymore."

Beatrice felt her heart shatter inside her chest. She stormed towards the door, telepathically flinging objects off the counter onto the ground as she went, leaving a trail of destruction in her path. She was vaguely aware of Dean and Fred following her, but she ignored them, slumping against the car and resting her head in her hands.

"This isn't over, Bea," Fred promised her, "we can still win this."

Beatrice looked up, wiping the tears that rolled freely down her cheeks. "But... he seems happy, Fred. Would it be cruel of me to take that away from him? He seems _happy_. Maybe... maybe that is him in there."

"No. I don't believe it," Fred insisted. "Sam wouldn't abandon you like that. You know that!"

"You're right. I know you're right." She sighed, "it just hurts, so much."

"I know. But we'll get him back, Bea. I promise."

Dean came over to the Impala, tucking his phone into his pocket. "That was Bobby on the phone," he sighed, "he's found another hunter for us to work the case with until Sam is back in action."

"Great," Beatrice mumbled, "more headcases."

"Hey. You Dean?"

Beatrice didn't realise who had spoken at first. She hadn't expected it to be the short man sitting alone in the booth, loudly slurping a strawberry milkshake. "Hm," he looked Dean up and down, "I thought you'd be taller."

"Garth, this is Fred Beauregard and Beatrice Wells. Girls, this is Garth. I assume Bobby filled you in on the road?" Dean asked. He slid into the booth opposite Garth and rested his elbows on the tale, leaning forward. Garth shrugged, wiggling his hand in some kind of non committal gesture. Beatrice stared at him.

"He told me two things," Garth said, "one, he's tangling with a major-league nest up in Oregon territory. Numero dos, he said you'd be all surly and premenstrual working with me. But hey, man, sticks and stones."

Beatrice rolled her eyes, dropping a newspaper onto the table in front of Garth, "think we found a case. Check the headline."

"First things first!" Garth announced. He sipped his milkshake again and flicked through the newspaper until he found the small comic he'd been searching for, "oh, Marmaduke. You're crazy!"

Beatrice lingered awkwardly by the seats in the office waiting area. Fred, Garth and Dean had occupied the only three chairs, so she had been left standing, but she had other things playing on her mind. The door to the CEO's office swung open and Sam and Becky came out, much to Beatrice's dismay. "Thanks again," Sam said warmly.

Garth looked at Sam, then back at Beatrice, "is that your-"

"Yes."

"Awkward."

Sam spotted the group by the window and came over. Becky followed, scowled at Beatrice, and then left to wait by the car. "Hi." Dean said, making enough awkward conversation for everyone's lifetime, "okay, so..."

"So uh, no point going in. Guy's clean."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Positive. Becky grilled him like a pro. She's a real natural." Sam said proudly. Beatrice rolled her eyes and though Sam noticed, he didn't say anything, instead leaning over to Dean to whisper, "who's the scrawny guy?"

Dean shrugged. "Temp."

"Throw a rock, hit a reporter these days, huh?" The CEO smiled, motioning to the chairs opposite his desk for the group to sit in. Once again, Beatrice was left standing.

"Well, your story's a big deal over at the Actuarial Insider," Fred said with a charming smile. The CEO looked at her, smiled in a way that was uncomfortably sleazy, and then he reclined in his seat, folding his hands casually over his lap. He even poured himself a glass of scotch, which he offered round, but nobody accepted.

"Go ahead. Shoot."

"Alright, uh, how'd you get the gig?" Dean asked.

"Board came to me. Asked. Said yes."

"Just out of the blue?"

"Pretty much!"

"Huh. And uh, any idea how the board landed on you over your supervisors?" Beatrice asked.

"Um, they didn't say."

"Could you tell us what specifically excited the board about your actual qualifications?"

"Say, what's with the third degree?" The CEO asked uneasily.

"Oh, uh, no offence, we were just wondering if you got here by nefarious means." Garth said casually. Beatrice almost choked on her spit and had to bite back a laugh. Fred and Dean looked horrified but Garth went on, oblivious, "oh, uh, I-I didn't mean, of course, uh, corporate backstabbing. I'm sorry. I meant, more like, uh, you know, black magic. Or hoodoo."

"Oh, that's a joke," Beatrice cut in quickly, "he's such a joker. Let's uh, rewind. Why don't you tell us what it felt like when your big dream came true?" She suggested. He hesitated before he answered.

"Look, on the record, it's great."

"Off the record?" She pressed.

"It's not my big dream."

"Wait," Garth said, eyebrows raised, "you don't want this job?"

"Hell no," the CEO laughed, "I'm a sales guy. I was good in sales."

The door opened behind them and a woman Beatrice presumed was the CEO's wife came in. "Your secretary's an idiot," she scowled, "I'll be at the printer's this afternoon."

"Alright, Dear. See you at dinner."

"Just have the idiot make a reservation. Here's a tip, remind her she works for the CEO. One more screw up, she's fired." She snapped, and then disappeared from the doorway, leaving an uncomfortable silence behind her.

"Your wife seems pretty stoked on the promotion, doesn't she?" Garth asked.

"Honestly, I've never seen her happier. I have no idea how I'm gonna tell her I have to resign. The news is just gonna-"

"Kill her?"

"Would you excuse us one moment?" Fred said and got up, motioning for Beatrice to follow her out to the reception where the CEO's wife was readying herself to leave. "Mrs Burrows?" She said, "hi."

"Can I help you?" The woman asked rudely. Fred forced herself to smile.

"Yes, we're doing a story on your husband's promotion. We wanted to ask you a few questions."

"I'm sorry, I can't today. If you schedule it with his girl-"

"Okay, you know what?" Beatrice interrupted, "we're trying to save you from a really bad accident."

The wife stared at her, stunned. "Are you threatening me?"

"What? No! No, I'm pointing out a pattern. Why do people keep thinking I'm threatening them?"

"Because it sounded exactly like a threat," Fred pointed out, then turned to the CEO's wife, "look, for your own good, what did you do to get him promoted?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Now leave me alone! Or do I have to call security?"

The group had been following the CEO's wife for at least two hours, unnoticed. She was on the phone to someone when a light fixture above her came loose, almost crushing her but Dean pushed her out of harm's way. She looked up at him from the ground, breathless and trembling. "You okay?" He asked.

"How did you know?" She stammered, getting shakily to her feet.

"Because you're not the first."

"You want to tell us what's up here?" Fred asked.

"I was having lunch with friends. This guy heard me bitching. Next thing I know, he's making me an offer," she explained, pausing to fix her hair, pushing it back into the pristine updo she'd maintained all day. "Craig's job for my soul. I know. Hilarious. I mean, what have I got to lose?"

"Well, there's your soul," Garth reminded her, "what kind of demon deal is this? Timeline's whack."

"What are you talking about?" She spluttered, "d_emon_?"

"Let me back up here. You made a deal with a demon in exchange for your everlasting. Except, those are ten year contracts. Why's the bill coming in so fast?" Garth looked cluelessly at Beatrice and Fred, who both shrugged.

"I don't know," Beatrice said, "but I've got a bad feeling about who's next. We have to find Sam. Pronto."

"Alright," Garth nodded, "here's the plan. I drop this lad at my cousin's. He'll stop anything trying to get her. We find Sam, hopefully fix this, and everyone's home in time for 'America's Got Talent'. Now, you," he turned to the CEO's wife, "you'll be living with a tri-racial paraplegic sniper until this all blows over, okay?"

When they pulled up outside the restaurant they'd first seen Becky and Sam drive away from, they weren't expecting to see Sam lingering outside, fully armed and waiting. Beatrice was ready to ignore him, but the second he saw her approaching he rushed to her and pulled her into his arms. "It's me," he mumbled against her shoulder, "it's me, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Beatrice gasped, wrapping her arms tightly around his middle. "Don't ever scare me like this again."

"She had me under some love potion," he explained, "it wasn't real. I swear."

"I believe you," she pulled back and smiled tiredly at him, "I love you."

"I love you too."

"Guys, this is all very sweet, but could we maybe do this when we've killed the demon?" Fred suggested, standing awkwardly behind the reunited couple, who smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry." Beatrice said. Their reunion ended just in time as Becky threw the match down at the ground, igniting the devil's trap she'd painted around the demon before she'd arrived. The group burst in, guns raised. Becky looked at Sam excitedly, forgetting herself for a moment.

"You see that, Sam? I did it! Just like we said! I am _awesome_."

"Dean Winchester. Fred Beauregard. Beatrice Wells. This is really thrilling. Hey, can I have your autographs?" The demon smirked from inside the devil's trap. Beatrice laughed, slipping her knife out of her inside pocket.

"Sure, yeah, we'll carve them into your spleen. So, how you running your little scam?"

"Well, how do you mean, Beatrice?"

"Signing ten year deals, then killing them that week."

"Well, I would never! No, rules of the road. Can't lay a hair on any of my clients."

"Right, so how are you cheating it?" Fred asked.

"I'm not a cheater. I'm an _innovator_. It's called a loophole, you moron. Yes, when a person bargains away his soul, he gets a decade. Technically. But, accidents happen."

"So you're arranging accidents and collecting early?" Sam said.

"Oh, please. White gloves. I don't get my hands dirty. _That's _why it's important to have a capable intern." He clicked his fingers and from the kitchen, a different demon emerges, his arm raised. Fred, Garth, Sam and Dean flew backwards but Beatrice dived behind a table, avoiding the blow. She rolled out from underneath it, throwing her arms up and flinging a chair towards his head.

"Oh, this is straight up psychic warfare!" The demon said delightedly. "People told me about you, Beatrice Wells, but I never thought I'd see it first hand." He turned to his intern, a sudden glare coming to his face, "what time did I ask you to be here?"

The intern broke the devil's trap with his foot and the demon approached Beatrice, but she raised her arms above her head and dropped them quickly to her sides. Darkness flooded into the room, momentarily blinding the demon who slashed mid air for her. She flung a fireball towards him, which scorched his face, but gave his intern enough time to find her in the darkness.

Beatrice grabbed his head, and watched it explode underneath her fingers. "How many deals have you got cooking in this town?" She challenged the demon, who grinned at her, now inches from her face.

"Fifteen."

"Yeah, well, call them off, or I'll cut my own loophole in your throat."

The demon's face fell. "Oh, crap."

"Yeah, you said it. You're in a world-"

"Hello, Beatrice."

Beatrice whirled around, coming face to face with Crowley. "Oh. Crap." She grabbed the demon's throat and forced him to her knees in front of her, facing Crowley. Her hand tightened around his head, threatening to blow it up like she had done with his intern only moments before Crowley arrived. But she didn't need Crowley to see that. He knew what she was capable of.

"Mazel tov," he said, indifferent to the hostage situation, "Sam, who's the lucky lady?"

"You're Crowley!" Becky gasped, in awe.

"And you're... well, I'm sure you have a wonderful personality, dear."

"One more step, and I'll nuke your little friend here." Beatrice snarled, tightening her grip. Crowley shrugged, remaining indifferent, which infuriated both Beatrice and the demon.

"Please, don't let him get off that easy."

"Sir, I don't think that you-" The demon tried to protest but Crowley cut him off.

"I know exactly what you've been doing. A little birdie named Jackson," he paused to motion to the now decapitated intern, "sold you out. E-mailed all the juicy deets to my suggestion box. I assume the headless one is my whistle blower? Shame. Had a future. Unfortunately, you don't."

"I was just-"

"There's only one rule. Make a deal, keep it."

"Well, technically, I didn't-"

"There's a reason we don't call our chits in early. Consumer confidence! This isn't Wall Street, this is _Hell_. We have a little something called integrity. This gets out, who'll deal with us? Nobody! Then where are we?"

"I don't know." The demon admitted.

"That's right. You don't. Because you're a stupid, shortsighted little prat. Now, hand the jackass over. I'll cancel every deal he's made," Crowley offered, holding a hand to Beatrice but she still hesitated.

"What are you going to do with him?" She asked warily.

"Make an example of him. Fair trade, right? We all go our separate ways. No harm done."

"What, out of the goodness of your heart?" Sam taunted behind Crowley who rolled his eyes.

"Years of demons nipping at your heels, haven't seen one for months. Wonder why?"

"We've been a little busy," Fred snapped.

"Hunting Leviathan. Yes, I know. That's why I told my lads to stay clear of you meatheads."

"So, what do you know about-"

"Too much. You met that Dick yet? Smuggest tub of goo since Mussolini. I hate the bastards. Squash em all, please. I'll stay clear."

"Rip up the contracts first," Beatrice said fiercely.

Crowley snapped his fingers. "Done, and done. Your turn." He insisted. Beatrice pushed the grovelling demon towards Crowley despite his loud protests. "Pleasure as always." Crowley smiled, and then they were both gone. By the tables, Garth slowly lifted his head, swimming back into consciousness.

"What'd I miss?"

Sam scribbled his signature onto the annulment form with great satisfaction, then slid it across the table to Becky. "It wasn't all bad, right?" Becky said desperately. Sam looked at her, unsmiling and silent. "So, I'll see you again?" She asked hopefully, quickly changing the subject so he wouldn't look so angry.

"Yeah. Probably not." Beatrice smiled sarcastically and motioned to the form, which Becky signed, disheartened.

"Becky, look, you're not a loser, okay?" Sam sighed, "you're a good person. And you've got a lot of energy. So, you know, just do your thing, whatever that is, and the right guy will find you."

Beatrice noticed Garth looking at Becky longingly across the office. She shot him a warning look. "No. No!"

Beatrice leaned against the door of the hired car, smiling at Garth while him and Dean talked. "Well, buddy, I gotta say man, you don't uh, you don't suck." He reached out and patted Garth on the arm. Garth beamed at him.

"Thank you. That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"Take care." Beatrice said. She and Fred waved as Garth got into his car and drove out of the alleyway onto the main road. "He was nice," she commented. Fred and Dean nodded in agreement and they both got into the car, visibly exhausted after fighting demons for the first time in months. They'd forgotten how it could wipe them out.

"Hey, listen," Sam said, grabbing Beatrice's wrist before she could get in the car, "when I was all dosed up, I-I said some crap." He looked incredibly ashamed but Beatrice couldn't pass up an opportunity to tease him a little.

"Oh, you mean she wasn't your soulmate?" She smirked. Sam couldn't help but laugh.

"Shut up. I mean, I do need you watching my back. Obviously."

"Yeah, when crazy groupies attack."

"You know what I mean."

"You know, I have to say, you really pulled this together."

"That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me," Sam smiled, referencing Garth. Beatrice giggled. "Look, don't be too impressed. It's still a Denver scramble up here. I just know my way around the pale now."

"I'm just saying, it's stupid to think that you need me around all the time. You're a grown up."

"You know what, though? It might be nice."

"What?"

"You've been looking out for me for as long as I've known you. It'll be nice for you to be able to take care of yourself for once." He smiled at her, and it was genuine, but when Beatrice smiled back it didn't reach her eyes.

"Yeah."

Beatrice leaned against the hired jeep, her fingers making quick work of the keyboard as she texted Fred her fast food order. They'd been waiting for a call from Dean's intel for so long that the girls had started to get incredibly hungry. Luckily for them, there was a Burger King very close to the pay phone they'd been directed to.

The phone rang suddenly, startling Beatrice. Dean jogged towards it and she listened, amused, to the conversation. "Hello?... 'I am the eggman'... Seriously Frank, payphones? I mean, come on, I'm getting the clap off this thing just touching it... Fred Savage, really?... Yeah, no, I know. Bigmouths are everywhere... Uh, well since you asked, some actual intel on the Dick Roman guy would be nice... Fine. Alright... Yeah, good looking out." Dean hung the phone back up and returned to the jeep, scowling. "I hope he finds something quick. This whole protocol du jour thing's really creeping my cheese."

"So we got dick on dick?" Sam asked.

Dean and Beatrice both stared at him. "That's a vivid way of putting it," he smiled, "you find anything on Wonder Woman?"

"No," Sam said a little too quickly, "and there probably won't be. But..." he trails off and lifts up a newspaper, "I might have found something over in Kansas."

"Alright, well, let's do it. But uh, a few simple rules, okay? No babies. In fact, no baby mamas. No bars. No booze. No hot chicks of any kind. Let's go pick up Fred and then we can get out of here."

"Wait," Beatrice smirked, "did you just say-"

"Hey, _you_ spawn a monster baby, let's see how quick _you_ want to dive back into the pool."

The doctor carefully peeled back the plastic tarp covering the corpse. The body was swollen and pale and littered with little purple ring bruises. "Oh," Fred grimaced, "those are not the fun kind of hickeys. So, you're saying... an _octopus _did this?"

"Not just any octopus," the doctor sighed, "based on welt diameter, Enteroctopus dofleini."

"And for those of us who skipped the Enteroctopus class...?" Dean said.

"Giant Pacific Octopus."

"How giant are we talking, exactly?" Beatrice asked.

"Approximately thirty feet."

"I mean, aren't giant octopi rare around here?" Sam added. The doctor shrugged.

"Yet, here we are."

"Alright, so what happens?" Beatrice said, "guy homes home, cracks a beer, and... gets suckered to death?"

"Obviously this was some kind of freak fetish attack. Someone created those hickeys, then bled the man out." The doctor rolled the man's head to the left to reveal a deep gash in the side of his neck.

Fred looked uneasily at the rest of the group. "Would you excuse us for a minute, Doctor? Thanks." The others followed her out into the corridor. "That bite look a little Vamp-y to you?"

"No question." Sam agreed.

"So what are we looking for? An octovamp? A vamptopus?"

"That's crazy, even for us," Beatrice scoffed. Fred didn't look convinced, "...right?"

"It does push the envelope," Dean agreed, "let's go chat up the widow."

"We are very sorry for your loss, Ma'am." Fred reiterated as the widow handed her a mug of coffee, "Mrs Harper, we know this is bad timing. But we just have a few questions that we need to ask you. Is that okay?"

"Yeah," she said quietly. Her coffee was untouched.

"Did the house feel any different lately?" Sam asked. Mrs Harper looked at him.

"Different?"

"Anything strange," Dean clarified, "cold spots? Uh, did you smell anything weird? Maybe sulphur?"

"No. Not that I can remember."

"Okay. We're just ticking all the boxes here. Um, what about any skeletons in your husband's closet?" Fred asked, sipping her coffee. It burnt the roof of her mouth and it hurt like hell, but she tried not to let the pain show on her face.

"Skeletons? What do you mean?"

"Can you think of anybody who would want to do him harm? A colleague, an old flame?"

"The tiniest detail could really help," Beatrice agreed.

"You want to know what he was up to lately? Ask Stacey. She was here the night he died."

"Stacey?"

"Our nanny. Any other questions?"

"No, that's... thank you. You've been a big help. We really appreciate the hospitality, Ma'am." Beatrice got up to leave. As she bypassed the stairs to get to the front door, she spotted the little girl lingering at the top.

"Mom, Dad, Nanny... boy, that is a love triangle straight out of Casa Erotica. Of course, in those, the jealous wife tends to channel her feelings more productively." Dean grinned.

"The only thing I can't wrap my mind around is-" Beatrice started but Dean cut her off.

"What, how wife lady summoned an octovamp?"

"More like... 'why?' I mean, kind of impractical, right?"

"Yeah. Alright, one of us needs to go talk to the naughty nanny," Dean smirked. "And one of you needs to stay here, shake down the place when the wife leaves. See what we're dealing with."

"Alright, I'm on the nanny," Sam offered, but Dean laughed.

"_I'm_on the nanny."

"I thought you said no hot chicks." Beatrice smirked.

"We don't know that she's hot." Dean reasoned with her.

"Well, what about us?" Fred asked.

"Actually, I was hoping you could come back to the motel with me," Beatrice said quickly before one of the boys could assign them jobs, "there's some old paperwork I really want to go over."

"Alright." Fred agreed. "We're taking the car." And before Dean could argue, they got into the car, and drove in the direction of the motel. The brothers watched them go, bemused.

"So what paperwork did you want to go over?" Fred asked as they went into the room.

Beatrice seemed to hesitate. "Actually, there was something I really wanted to talk to you about." She sat on the bed, nibbling her lip, visibly very anxious. "And I don't know how to tell Sam."

"Well, what is it?" Fred asked, sitting beside her and taking her hand. "Is everything alright? Oh, God. You're not sick, are you?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Beatrice said quickly. "Oh, fucking hell." She hid her head in her hands for a moment while she tried to gather her thoughts, trying to draw coherent speech. "Fred, I'm pregnant."

"Oh! Well, Bea, that's great!" Fred beamed.

"It is?"

"Of course it is! You and Sam are going to get married. Why shouldn't you start a family? It's not going to be easy, but you two are the strongest people I know. You'll be amazing parents!" When she spoke, Fred couldn't help but think about the child she encountered two years ago when Zachariah sent her and Dean into the future.

"I think it's a girl," Beatrice smiled a little. "I'd like to call her Lavender."

Fred's smile grew. "Yeah? Well I think little Lavender's going to grow up just fine."

Beatrice's phone rang loudly across the motel room, startling her. She got up from the bed and answered it, yawning. "Hello?" She said. She heard Dean chuckle on the other end.

"I see paperwork really takes it out of you, huh?"

"Shut up," she smiled, "what's up?"

"We talked to the wrong person. Forget the Mom, talk to the daughter. She's mad at her dad for ditching her birthday party," Dean explained. Beatrice could practically hear his brain working through the phone.

"So what do you think?" She asked, motioning for Fred to follow her to the car as she balanced her phone between her ear and her shoulder, "a birthday wish gone wrong or something like that?"

"I don't know. It could be."

"We're on our way. I'll call you when we get there."

The jeep pulled up outside the house. The little girl was sat on the footpath, absently scribbling on the tiles in pale, child friendly chalks. "Can you get to her without tripping the AMBER alert?" Fred asked. Beatrice smiled.

"I'll try." She got out of the car and approached the little girl, who didn't look up at her even as she crouched beside her. Now she was closer, she could see the picture she was drawing was a colourful octopus with big teeth, the same kind of octopus that could have torn the throat from her father. "What are you working on?"

"I know who you are," the child said, still refusing to look up at Beatrice.

"You do?"

"Mm-hmm. You're the lady that talked to my Mom."

"That's right, I did. Is something wrong?"

"My Mom will get mad if I talk to you."

"How come?"

The little girl stopped drawing, her hand still gripping the crayon hovered above the picture. She looked up at Beatrice, visibly uncomfortable, "because of what I told the police."

"And what did you tell the police?"

"I told them that I tried to warn my dad. That the monster would get him."

The front door opened. Her mother appeared in the doorway and she glared at Beatrice, "Kelly, come here. Now! Kelly!" She snapped. Kelly looked to Beatrice one last time and then rushed into the house, leaving her drawing and the chalk behind.

Fred ran her hand over the hole in the fence. Not long after she and Beatrice finished at the house, Sam had called to tell them about another suspicious death. "Huh," she mumbled, and turned to the officer, "okay, so the horse, I get. The hoof-prints, the jumping over the fence... but uh, hat ran him through?"

"Best thing I could tell you is something big," he shrugged.

"So what, like... a lance?"

The officer shrugged. A body on a stretcher was carried towards the ambulance, where a tearful woman was talking quietly to another police officer. "It's sad, lady's got to pull her eight year old out of school and tell him his dad's dead," the officer sighed sadly, and reached up to slip off his cap.

The two girls exchanged a glance, and Beatrice quickly approached the woman, "excuse me," She said, taking her badge from her inside pocket, "excuse me, ma'am? Agent Garner, FBI."

"I'm sorry," the woman said softly, "I... I really need to go."

"Okay, uh, just one quick question, if you don't mind?" Beatrice asked. The woman said nothing, only looked at her, so Beatrice went on, "um, was yesterday your son's birthday?"

"Billy's birthday? No. Why would you ask that?"

"Nothing. Never mind."

"Oh, but.. his father did take him to a friend's birthday party yesterday."

"Okay, thank you ma'am," Beatrice smiled sympathetically as the woman was escorted away by the officer she'd been talking to. Fred came up behind her, eyebrows raised in question. Beatrice turned back to face her. "We need to get to the boys."

Beatrice and Fred picked Dean up from outside a bar. On the drive back to the motel, Dean called Sam, placing the phone on loudspeaker so they could all hear. "Hey," Sam said on the other side. Beatrice could hear the whirr of the mini fridge and the tapping of his laptop in the background, and then the squeal of his coffee machine.

"Hey," she said with a smile, "you remember a chain called Plucky Pennywhistle's?"

There was a pause before Sam said, "no."

"Really?" Dean said, one eyebrow cocked up, "could have sworn you loved those places."

"No, dude, I hated them," Sam said, and Beatrice heard him sigh before he went on in a small voice, "You would dump me and go trolling for chicks."

Dean scoffed, "it's not like I left you in jail. I mean, those places are supposed to be fun."

"Fun?" Sam laughed, "uh, they're lame. And they smell like puke. _And _the ice cream is all grainy."

"Alright, don't have one of your episodes, okay? I'm just saying I hit a dead end with this whole wishes-gone-wild thing, but both kids were at Plucky's day of. Look, why don't you go check out the local Plucky's and ask about this billy kid."

Beatrice could almost see Sam's face fall through the phone. "Look, why don't I just wait for you to get back?" He stammered. There was an obvious shake in his voice which Dean didn't seem to pick up on.

"No can do, Hermano," Dean shrugged, "I'm on my way to talk to little Billy."

"Why... why don't I talk to Billy right now?"

"Wait," Dean laughed, "this isn't about your clown thing, is it?"

"What? No!"

"Sammy..."

"No!"

"Yeah, what in the world did they do to you? Alright, you know what? Never mind. Just know that 99.99 percent of all clowns can't hurt you, okay? And if it bleeds, you can kill it." Dean hung up the phone and turned to Beatrice, expecting her to laugh with him but she glared at him instead. He looked at her innocently.

"Drop me back at the motel, I'll go with him," she said, and with a small smile added, "there's something I want to talk to him about."

Sam was still in the motel when Beatrice arrived. He was pacing anxiously, but visibly calmed down when she came in and closed the door behind her. "I'm so glad to see you," he laughed nervously. She smiled sympathetically at him and sat down on the bed.

"Yeah, me too." She paused, toying with a loose thread at the end of her shirt. Sam picked up on her apprehension and sat down beside her, picking up her hands and circling his thumb around her knuckles.

"What's wrong, Bea?" He said, all clown anxiety temporarily gone, "is everything okay? Are you sick?"

Beatrice laughed, "why does everyone always think I'm sick? No, Sammy, I'm fine." She took a deep breath, "I just think we're going to have to spend a lot more time at Plucky's than we originally thought."

Sam's face dropped. "What?"

Beatrice nodded seriously. "Afraid so. Maybe even after this case is done."

"Bea, what are you talking about?"

Beatrice smiled and gently guided Sam's hands to her stomach. "I'm pregnant, Sam."

Sam stared at her. She could see a million thoughts swimming behind his eyes and she was terrified he was going to be angry with her. For a second, she was even worried he was about to storm out. Instead, he stammered out a feeble, "r-really?"

"Really really," she confirmed.

"I... I'm gonna be a dad?"

Beatrice smiled and nodded. "Yeah."

Sam's eyes lit up. He got up from the bed and lifted Beatrice, whirling her around. "Oh my God!" He whooped, "I'm gonna be a dad! Bea, we're gonna be _parents_."

She nodded, burying her face in his shoulder, "I think it's a girl."

"A girl..." Sam breathed out in awe. "But... what are we going to do? How can you hunt while you're pregnant? What if something happens to one of you?" He started to panic as he set her down on her feet. Beatrice shook her head, cupping her hands around her stomach and she shrugged a little bit to set his mind at ease.

"That's the thing," she said, "I don't feel like any harm can come to this baby." She trailed off, sighing because she knew how crazy she sounded, "I feel this sort of... protective light around her. Something angelic," she looked up at him, chewing her lip, "Sam, I think it's Castiel."

"Castiel? But he's-"

"Dead, I know that. But I feel like he's here. I feel as though he's taking care of her, wherever he is."

Sam smiled, "then I guess we really owe it to that son of a bitch, huh?"

Beatrice smiled back and nodded. "I guess we do."

Beatrice pushed open the doors to Plucky Pennywhistle's. Above the door, a recorded message chirped, 'welcome to Plucky Pennywhistle's! Have fun!' As they approached the front desk, a large mechanical clown said, 'welcome to Plucky Pennywhistle's!', and then laughed brightly. Sam eyed it suspiciously, and Beatrice slid her hand into his, trying to calm him. If he was still terrified after that, he was doing a good job at not showing it.

"Welcome to Plucky's, where all your dreams are good," a cheerful worker greeted them.

"Could you just uh, maybe.." Sam trailed off to flash his FBI badge, "just get the manager for us?"

The employee nodded and disappeared into the back of the building. Sam swallowed hard and, still holding Beatrice's hand, went into the play area. The room was filled with clowns and his breath hitched. Beatrice squeezed his hand a little tighter. They approached a wall which was decorated with paper placemats, each of them titled, 'draw your worst fear... Plucky will make your fear disappear'. Beatrice noticed Kelly Harper had a name label, but no picture above it.

"Real beauties, huh?" A voice joined them and Beatrice turned to see the manager at her left, "we rotate them out once a week. Kids love having their art on the wall."

"Draw your worst fear?" Beatrice asked, her eyebrow raised.

"I know, but we don't post the truly evil stuff; just the standard crap like sharks and ghosts." She held a hand out to Beatrice, and then to Sam. Both of them shook it. "Jean Holiday, shift manager."

"Johnson and Garner, FBI." Sam said, "so tell me, why even ask the kids to draw creepy stuff to begin with?"

"It's just an exercise," Jean explained, "some pop psychologist came up with it. Plus, the owner's obsessed with 'aiding children's development', so the place mat is a safe way to get kids to talk about their fears. You know, we get them to sketch it in a little box and, voila, Plucky magically transforms it into rainbows and candy. Personally, I think it's a load of hooey, but they say that if these fears run wild, then it affects the kids long into their adulthood."

A man dressed as a clown passed in between Sam and Beatrice, laughing cheerfully, and Sam flinched, "yeah," he mumbled, "I've.. I've heard that. Um, so I don't know if you'll remember, but there was a kid in here yesterday named Billy Pogue for a party."

"Oh, the conniption kid," Jean nodded. Beatrice looked at her quizzically.

"Conniption? He had-"

"No, no. Not him. He was fine. It was his dad. He pulls the kid away before cake and presents, and I guess the kid asked to stay for another five minutes. The dad pulls a full frontal douchebag, starts screaming. Just embarrassed for the kid."

Beatrice nodded, pausing to chew her lip, "excuse me one moment." She stepped away, taking out her phone to call Fred, but someone whistled at her from across the food court. She looked up, puzzled, and the perpetrator whistled a second time. A janitor was motioning to her from a far table.

"Hey," he hissed. "Hey!" He looked around to see who could be watching and then motioned her over again. Beatrice put her phone away and approached him, eyebrows raised. "You a cop?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm a Fed."

"Uh, what are you investigating?"

"Couple of crazy deaths. Why, is there something you want to share?"

"Look, not now. Too many eyes. Come back after closing."

Fred was cheerfully helping Dean take paper takeout boxes out of a big plastic bag when Sam and Beatrice returned to the motel. "Hey, so what's the lowdown with trauma town?" Dean asked. Sam made a face at him.

"I can tell you this much, neither vic was up for parent of the year. Kelly's dad skipped her birthday, and Billy's dad pulled one of those dick parent scenes that makes everyone cringe," Sam sighed. Beatrice pulled a handful of Plucky's nightmare placemats out of her bag and put them on the table. Fred raised her eyebrows.

"What the hell are these?"

"Kid therapy," Beatrice explained, "you draw you worst nightmare; poof! Plucky fixes it. They hang them up on this big wall."

"Well, can't argue with this. Leprechauns _are_ deadly. Okay, so, Kelly draws a monster, and then that goes after her father? That's what we're saying?"

"Well, here's the thing," Beatrice went on, "they label those. And guess which two were missing. Well, name tag was there. No placemat. Little miss Octovamp,and Billy. So somehow, whatever he drew came to life and killed his dad, riding a horse."

"Close," Dean nodded, "but no seabiscuit. See, we went and had a little chat with Billy, and he drew us this," he unfolded a piece of a paper on which there was a child's drawing of a unicorn with a rainbow tail. Someone was impaled on the end of the creature's horn and Beatrice felt her blood run cold.

"Wait," Sam said, "so now unicorns are evil?"

"Yeah. Obviously."

"Great. Well, now the question is, how did a unicorn come off a sketch and kill Billy's dad? How is any of this happening?" Fred groaned. Dean shrugged and attacked his food with a pair of chopsticks. He raised it to his mouth, then paused, looking towards the mini fridge.

"There's some wine in there." He pointed out. "I'm gonna have some wine. Bea, you want wine?"

Beatrice exchanged a glance with Sam who smiled at her, so she turned to Dean and grinned. "Actually Dean, I won't be having any wine for a while," she said cryptically.

"Why? You sick?"

"Okay, seriously, if one more person asks if I'm sick..." she laughed, and shook her head, "no, Dean, I'm not sick. But I won't be having any wine for at least another nine months." She said. He looked at her blankly, and she stared back, waiting for the penny to drop which, after about thirty seconds of silence, it did.

"Wait... are you...?"

"Pregnant?" She offered. He nodded, mouth wide open. Beatrice nodded too.

"Oh my God!" Dean leaned over the coffee table and embraced both Beatrice and Sam in a hug, "I can't believe I'm actually going to be an uncle. A real life uncle! But what if something happens? Oh my God, you can never hunt again. This is it."

"Bea and I have already been through this," Sam reassured him, "something angelic is protecting us. Nothing's going to happen to Bea, or our baby. So she can keep hunting, for now at least."

"Well, this is great!" Dean beamed.

"I'm so happy for you both!" Fred grinned. And she was, truly happy. But when she looked at their smiling faces and thought about her own soulmate, she couldn't help but wish that she could have it too.

The Jeep pulled up outside Plucky's. There were already two police cars parked outside. Beatrice got out of the car and rushed over to a pair of EMT's who were wheeling out a body covered by a sheet. "Hold on one second there, guys," she said, holding up her FBI badge. They stopped long enough for her to peel back the sheet. She grimaced. The janitor she had spoken to earlier was under the sheet, his body torn to shreds. His face was frozen in fear even in death, his mouth wide in a silent scream. "Uh, thank you."

She moved back to the others who had just finished talking to Jean. "So?"

"The manager found the body in the ball pit. Blood everywhere," Sam sighed.

"Cops have a theory?"

"Yeah, they think the ball washer did it," Fred said. Dean stared at her.

"The what?"

"The... ball washer."

A smile grew on Dean's face, "the _what_?"

"The-" Fred stopped as she realised and threw her hands up in frustration.

Beatrice shook her head and pointed back at the body as they loaded it into the ambulance, "that man has a shark bite. And judging from the radius, I'd say a twenty foot one." The others stared at her. "Shark week. How do you not watch that? Whole week of sharks!" She protested. The three of them exchanged a collective glance and then went into Plucky's. She followed.

Plucky's was definitely a lot eerier at night. Fred shuddered as she ran a flashlight over the wall of children's fears. "Omar Cooper," she pointed to a name that had an empty place, "how much you want to bet little Omar here was scared of sharks?"

"Saul the janitor is connected how?" Dean asked, "I mean, he's not related to Omar."

"No, but Saul had something he wanted to tell me." Beatrice said darkly. "So this isn't about killing an asshole parent. More like... silencing a whistle blower."

"Great," Dean grumbled, "so whatever we're looking for can literally fire off childhood fears at will. _Wow_. Watch out for evil lunch ladies." Nobody laughed at Dean's attempt at a joke. "Seriously," he sighed, "Dractopus, seabiscuit the impaler, land shark. What's next?" He looked at them but they were all equally clueless.

"Maybe a... Tulpa?" Fred suggested. Beatrice shook her head.

"No, killings are too spread out."

"True. Um... Angel?"

Dean scoffed from across the room, setting down his father's journal on the bed where he was sat, "it's a little imaginative for the God Squad, don't you think?" He said, raising his eyebrows. Fred sighed, defeated.

"Alright. So... what?"

"Yeah. I don't know, I'm tapped out." He took a long drink of coffee.

"Well, whatever it is, at least we know where it is." Sam pointed out. Beatrice nodded.

"Plucky's. That's where the victims are getting picked up," she said, "but we swept the place last night, and nothing. We could go back. Go to the employees, maybe dig up some dirt." She thought it was a good suggestion but Dean shook his head.

"What good's that gonna do?" He asked, "they think we're Feds. The one guy was gonna rat, he got Bruce'd. If anybody knows anything, they're not gonna tell us."

"Alright," Sam agreed, clapping his hands together, "yep, that's the plan. I'll go back, play bad cop, really lean into them. And when I'm done, then you watch them." He got up and crossed the room to the bathroom.

"So if somebody freaks out, that's our creep," Fred nodded.

"Or he'll lead us closer. And you three can track him."

"Well what's our cover?" Dean asked.

"I don't know, just hang back. Act normal." Sam closed the bathroom door. Dean sighed.

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, taking another long drink of coffee, "guy in his thirties hanging out with two hot girls at Plucky's. That's normal. That's not pervy at all."

Beatrice shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Plucky's was loud, bright, and smelled weird. And Sam was right, the ice cream was grainy as hell. It felt like Sam had been in the office interrogating for hours. A little girl skipped by carrying a large rainbow slinky. Dean looked at it, then got up and rushed towards the prize desk. Fred and Beatrice exchanged a bemused glance, then followed him. "Howdy, friend," the cheerful employee from Beatrice and Sam's first visit greeted them.

Dean pointed towards the slinky. "Giant slinky, would have killed for one of those when I was a kid. How much?"

"One thousand tickets," the employee said. Dean stared at him.

"American dinero. How much?"

"Oh, we don't take cash here at Plucky Pennywhistle's. Only tickets won through hard work and determination." The employee said. His cheerful tone never dropped, which only annoyed Dean. "It's double ticket Tuesday if you play skeeball."

Dean scowled and stormed over to the skeeball machine. Fred and Beatrice giggled and sat back down at the table. A waitress passed, and they ordered two more bowls of ice cream. No matter how grainy, eating it passed the time. "So," Fred said through a mouthful of strawberry, "I wanted to tell you about something."

"Go on?" Beatrice raised an eyebrow.

"We've met Lavender. Me and Dean."

"What?"

"Two years ago, when Zachariah sent us into the future, I met you. Or at least, the post apocalyptic future version of you. And... you had a little girl with you. It was Lavender."

Beatrice's face lit up. "Really? What was she _like_?"

"She was beautiful, Bea, really. I think she must have been only two or three years old, and she looked just like you, but she had Sam's eyes. She was sweet, and playful, and despite everything that was happening around her she never stopped smiling. So I think, no matter what happens around us, your little girl is going to be perfect."

Tears came into Beatrice's eyes. "She really is. Thank you, Fr- Fred, look out!"

A man in a lion suit crashed from the back room where Sam was interrogating and rolled over the table towards the exit. Beatrice, Dean and Fred followed him outside to the back of the building. Fred grabbed the tail of the lion costume, but it came free of the suit in her hands. "Hey!" She yelled.

Dean tackled him onto a pile of trash and held him down. "If this is about the meth lab that fired up in Butte, it wasn't me, okay, it was my brother, but we got the same fingerprints, and... please. This is the best job I ever had." The man squealed.

"Alright," Dean sighed, "look, uh..."

"Cliff."

"Cliff, you're not using kid's nightmares to smoke people, are you Cliff?"

"I don't... think so." He stuttered. Beatrice exchanged a glance with Sam who had just appeared in the doorway. "What's going on?" Cliff asked nervously, looking between Sam and Beatrice.

"Alright, cards up," Fred sighed, "yeah, we don't care that you, you know, broke bad or whatever. But there is something seriously weird going on in there."

"Oh, you mean the sub-basement."

"This place has a _sub-basement_?"

"Sure, door's out back. Easy to miss if you don't know. All I know is me and Saul used to come in after hours sometimes, and..." he trailed off, laughing, "you ever shroom in a ball pit?" His face fell when he remembered who he thought he was talking to, "not that I would... Agents, it was Saul. Just Saul. All alone. Anyway, sometimes we'd hear like... spooky stuff, through the vents, coming up from the boiler room."

The group returned to the playroom. A little boy and his Mom were just leaving. Dean watched them go, then rushed over to the table at the blank space where the child's placemat should be. "Dean, what? What is it?" Sam asked.

"While you were out being Dirty Harry, uh, Tyler's Mom got pissy with him and now his placemat's missing. I think the bitchy Mom, plus uh, sad kid, plus placemat with something nuts written on it... equals whacky corpse." Dean explained, looking uneasily at the place where the placemat should be.

"So you think she's next on the list?" Beatrice said, "alright, we'll tail them just to be safe. You and Fred-"

"Check the boiler room. I know," Dean nodded. "Be safe."

"Right." She took Sam's hand and the two turned to go but Beatrice paused, glancing back at Dean over her shoulder, "oh, uh, Dean, any idea what he drew?"

"Robot." Dean answered immediately.

"Robot?"

"Yeah, about the size of a house. Shoots destructo beams out of its eyes."

Sam smiled bitterly, "at least we'll see it coming."

Fred and Dean watched the other two leave the establishment and head towards the jeep. It was close to closing time, and they hid in the back room until it was dark outside, and then they slipped into the boiler room. In the middle of the room, there was a large, burning pot, and the room was decorated with photographs and dolls and placemats. Beside three dolls was an open spell book. "Now that's perfectly normal." Fred mumbled sarcastically. She picked up one photograph which had two boys in it. The decorations above the smiling children read, 'happy birthday Howard!'.

"Drop it."

The pair whirled around. The cheery employee, presumably Howard, was in the doorway, aiming a gun at them. "Drop it!" He repeated, pointing it at Fred who remembered she was clutching a handgun. She hesitated, but set the gun slowly on the floor. "Mm-hmm. Now kick it over." He ordered. She did.

"Some pretty heavy hoodoo you got here," she said, "I gotta say, as far as I know, none of these things can poop out a unicorn."

Howard moved a little closer. He stood on the opposite side of the pot to Dean and Fred. "There's power in fear," he explained slowly, "and when a child draws what he's afraid of, a little of that mojo ends up on the page."

"So, what?" Dean said, "you toss it in the fire and some bed-wetter's horror show comes to life?"

"I got to get something off the parent too. Something they own. That bit gets tricky."

"Well, it hasn't seemed to slow you down."

"I'm just doing what I need to!"

"Okay. Okay, I get it. Okay?" Fred said carefully. She turned and threw the open spell book at Howard's head. It only just missed him but he still didn't drop the gun. It was all the time Fred needed, though, and she ripped Tyler's drawing of the robot in half. "No drawing, no iron giant." She crumpled the halves and dropped them.

"Oh, that b-word is still on the list. But not tonight. Bigger fish," he shrugged.

"What, are you gonna shoot us?" She demanded, "you really want two bodies on your hands? Blood everywhere?"

"I'd shut up! Because I've got lots of ways to take care of bullies. Don't you worry. Like that FBI guy. He's your pal, right? I saw you chase Cliff down. Five minutes ago, his business card was torched. Along with something from my... personal collection. I picked it out really special for him, too. Soon as I saw him, I noticed. He was staring at every little Plucky like... like it was gonna stab him or something. Guy's got a real thing about clowns."

"What about her?" Fred asked, realising he'd left Beatrice out.

"I heard you talking. She's pregnant, and that child is innocent. Those clowns won't hurt her."

Beatrice stepped out of the jeep. Everything in the street seemed normal. It was dark, but it was quiet. Sam got out on the other side, and Beatrice heard him gasp in terror. Beatrice raced around the front of the jeep, only to come face to face with a laughing clown. She backed up, terrified, but Sam came up behind her and grabbed her arm, pulling her towards a large garage. He pushed her in first and then slammed the door behind them. "What the hell?" Beatrice panted.

Sam attempted to move a large metal bookshelf in front of the door but it burst open anyway and two clowns stumbled in. Sam reached with trembling hands for his gun and tried to shoot, but instead of blood, glitter burst from the chest of the clown. It giggled, and then the two of them came forward, advancing on Sam and hitting him in the face twice.

"Well, hey, these are really nice dolls, did you..." Dean trailed off to pick up a painted clown doll which had been beside the book, "paint them yourself?"

"Plucky helps kids!" Howard cried, "it's all I ever wanted to do. And when the management slot opened up, I... but they passed me over." Tears came into his eyes and for a moment he turned away.

"Shocker."

"No, I told them. 'No one cares more than me!' But suits never listen." Howard lamented. While he was distracted, Fred slipped one of the dolls into her back pocket, "so, I'm doing it my way."

"So let me get this straight," Fred said, "you didn't get the good parking space, so you start dropping bodies?"

"Those parents were horrible! They deserved what they got."

"What about Saul?"

"Saul had a big mouth!"

"Some guy hits on the babysitter, all of a sudden he's the world's worst dad?"

"A good parent puts his kids first."

"And having a little girl watch her pop get ganked by the closet monster, that's putting her first?" Dean said angrily.

"In the long run, they'll all be better off."

"You think so? Really?"

"I would have been."

Fred looked back at the picture of the two little boys at the birthday party. Pinned next to it were two drawings, in one, a stick figure swimming above the water, but in the second, the stick figure was sinking, surrounded in the waves by fish. Something clicked in her head and she turned back to Howard, "so, your brother, what happened to him?"

Howard's eyes widened. "It's not my fault! It's theirs!"

One of the clowns picked Sam up and threw him against the windshield of a pickup truck. The glass shattered underneath him and the second clown pulled him back up to kick him in the stomach. He attempted to hit out, but the clowns pushed him back before hitting him again.

Beatrice rushed forward, an iron bar raised above her head but the clowns pushed her back, hard enough to repel her attack, but not hard enough to hurt her. "They won't let me get to you!" She screamed, frustrated, as the clown hit her fiance again. She threw the clown off and hit the one attacking Sam in the back of the head with the iron. It turned to her, smiling sympathetically, and gently pushed her away a second time. It didn't even flinch.

"Looks to me like he drowned." Fred deduced. Howard's lip trembled.

"I was screaming. But my folks... they didn't listen. They never listened!"

Fred looked at him uneasily, "it was an accident."

"They let him die!"

In frustration, Beatrice attempted to attack the clown with the iron bar again. Worse than Sam's pain was the terror in his eyes. This was his worst fear, and listening to his sobs was Beatrice's. She swung the bar again across the clown's face. It spat glitter and a tooth, but did nothing to deter it.

Instead of retreating, it joined the other, delighting in picking up a wrench and striking Sam with it. His knees gave out underneath him and Beatrice screamed but he got shakily to his feet and attacked again while she swung the bar a second time at the knees of the clowns, hoping to knock them down like bowling pins. It did nothing.

Fred picked up the picture of the person underwater. "I'll bet you still have nightmares," she mused. Howard looked at her, furious, but she went on confidently, "in fact, I'll bet you haven't been in the water since."

"Shut up!"

"Because you're afraid."

Fred reached into her back pocket and slipped out the doll. Making eye contact with Howard, she dropped the picture and the doll into the fire, which rose high above the three of them. Howard screamed in rage, firing three times. Fred and Dean ducked, but the bullet still hit flesh. Fred looked up, terrified Dean had been shot but he was clean, and so was she. Apprehensive, she peeped over the edge of the pot. A little boy, soaked from head to toe, was opposite Howard. Three bullet holes were torn into his shirt.

"It wasn't my fault," Howard stammered. The little boy reached out for him. "I'm sorry."

Howard dropped to his knees, choking loudly. Water dribbled from his lips and he clawed at his throat, desperate to find breath. Fred and Dean watched blankly as he fell forward, and didn't move again..

One of the clowns rushed at Beatrice, wrestling the bar from her, which it turned on Sam. He cried out, trying to shield himself and brace himself at the same time. Beatrice screamed, but in an explosion of glitter, the clowns disappeared. Sam opened one eye anxiously, and shot up when he saw the clowns were gone.

Beatrice and Sam stared at each other. Despite her terror, Beatrice couldn't help but smile, and he smiled back, and then they were laughing, clutching each other and laughing. "Come on," Sam grinned, "let's go find Fred and Dean."

To Beatrice's surprise, when they left the garage, Dean and Fred were already outside, chatting and leaning against the jeep. "Let's roll," Sam said. He realised they were both staring at them, so he opened his arms wide, inviting their mockery, "go ahead. Say it." Fred and Dean broke down in laughter.

"I'm sorry," Dean gasped for air through his laughs, "you look like you got attacked by some PCP crazed strippers."

Sam grinned back. "Dude, one of them sprayed me with seltzer from his flower." He said.

"Oh, that's... Sam, I'm sorry for psychologically scarring you."

"Which time?" Sam teased.

"Shut up. Seriously. You know, my ditching you when we were kids. That was a dick move. You know, the whole clown thing..." Dean looked at Sam apologetically, knowing he had subconsciously caused Sam's fear.

"You know what, man? Honestly, getting my ass kicked by those juggalos tonight was... it was therapeutic."

"You faced your fear," Fred smiled.

"Exactly. And now, what else could a clown possibly ever do to me? I feel good."

"Well, congrats." Dean smiled.

"By the way, to celebrate..." Sam reached into the back of the jeep and emerged with a large slinky, which he handed over to Dean, who's eyes widened like he was a little boy all over again.

"No!" He gasped, taking the slinky.

"Yes!"

"Did you win this?" Dean said in awe. Sam shook his head.

"We earned that."

"Hey, I got you a little something too," Fred grinned cheekily, and reached into her pocket. She pressed one of Howard's clown dolls into Sam's hand. He shuddered, but laughed. "What? You said you were over it," she teased, "you can think of it as a clown phobia sobriety chip."

Sam scoffed. "Let's get out of here. I've seen enough clowns for one frigging lifetime."

Beatrice threw open the doors to the office. Her face was a painting of rage and confusion. "Excuse me!" A nurse gasped, "you can't just barge in here without an appointment!"

"They said 'talk to Kadinsky'," Beatrice said angrily, ignoring the nurse and speaking directly to the man working behind the desk, who had stopped to look up at Beatrice. "Are you Kadinsky?"

"You need to be scheduled." The nurse insisted.

"Well then, schedule me! He was in a car crash. Why the hell can't I see him?" Beatrice demanded.

The doctor set down his pen and looked at Beatrice carefully. "You must be Sam Smiths'... sister?"

"I'm his wife," Beatrice corrected him with a scowl. That wasn't strictly true, but 'fiance' wouldn't quite cut it with them, and she knew that, "What's going on?"

Dr Kadinsky turned to the nurse. "It's fine. Thank you. Really." He told her. The nurse hesitated, but turned to leave as he ordered. "Sam was admitted. He was treated for a broken rib and lacerations."

"Okay." Beatrice nodded, "that's not too bad. And...?"

"And, he's on our locked psychiatric floor."

Beatrice's eyes widened. "I mean, he's had some trouble..."

"So you're aware that Sam is experiencing a full blown psychotic episode?"

"Psychotic?" Beatrice said in disbelief and collapsed into a chair, "come on, it's... it's not like he's Norman Bates."

"No, I'm sure he isn't," Dr Kadinsky agreed, "we need to determine whether his state was brought on by the insomnia, or whether the insomnia is a symptom of his condition. Do you understand? So that we can figure out how to treat him."

"Well, all I can say is that the sleep thing is... kind of new."

"Right, well, we've pumped him about as full of sedatives as we safely can. So far, he won't go under." Dr Kadinsky sighed and rubbed his forehead tiredly, "I've never seen anything like it."

The Doctor led Beatrice down the winding corridors to a highly secure ward. He unlocked the door to Sam's room and allowed Beatrice in, closing the door behind her and waiting out in the hallway. Seeing him broke her heart. His face was unshaven, his eyes were distant, and he was dressed in white hospital slacks. Beatrice hesitated in the doorway. "How are you feeling?" She asked softly. Sam's gaze snapped to her like he'd only just noticed her.

"Maybe you should cancel my UFC fight." He said in a strained voice. Beatrice was pleased to see he had at least kept his sense of humour. She sat down on the bed beside him and took his hand in hers.

"Sammy, I'm gonna find you help," she assured him.

"I don't think it's out there, Bea."

"We don't know that," she insisted.

"We know better than most. It's all snake oil. Last faith healer we hooked up with had a reaper on a leash. Remember?" He looked at her intently and Beatrice sighed, rubbing her face.

"Yeah, Sam. I remember."

"I'm just saying-"

"What? That you don't want my help?"

"No, I'm just saying... don't do this to yourself."

"Sam, if I don't find something..." She trailed off, looking at him, pained.

"Then I'll die. Bea, we knew this was coming."

"No."

"When you put my soul back-"

"_No_."

"-Cas warned you about all the crap it would-"

"Screw Cas!" Beatrice sobbed, finally breaking down. She got up from the bed and paced the room, "I need you, Sam! This baby, _our daughter_, she needs you! So for God's sake, get angry! Get pissed. Do something!"

Sam sighed. "I'm too tired. This is what happens when you throw a soul into Lucifer's dog bowl. And you think there's just gonna be some cure out there?"

"I do," she collapsed back onto the bed and clasped his hand, "I'll be back, Sam. I'll find something. For all of us. Just..." she sighed, guiding his hand to her stomach, "hold on, for her. If you need something to cling on to, cling on to her. Remember her. Remember _me_." She pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead, and then, she was gone.

Beatrice looked hopelessly down at the list of names. It seemed every faith healer in the country was booked up for the next decade. This guy was her last hope. "This is Beatrice," she said into the phone, hoping to have reached a real person and not just an answer machine, like she had done with every other call.

"Mackey," the voice said back, "calling you back. Hey, real sorry about Bobby."

"Yeah," Beatrice swallowed hard, "me too."

"Look, what you called about... I might have something for you. There's this guy. He goes by Emmanuel. He kind of... roams. First started hearing about him a couple of months back, how he was healing the sick, curing the crazy. Naturally, I think something in the milk ain't clean. Find this sucker, punch his clock. Right?"

"Right."

"Heard the best way to get to him his through his wife Daphne, out in Colorado? So, I go. Tell her I'm going blind. It's true, my right eye's burned out. She says, 'go home, he'll come'. So I go. I set every trap, every test in the book."

"That's what I would have done," Beatrice agreed.

"Emmanuel shows. He passes every one. There ain't nothing weird about this guy, except... he's the real deal."

"What do you mean?"

"He touched me, and my eye was fixed. Look, I don't believe in much that don't suck your blood. But I wouldn't call you on a maybe." He sounded so sincere that for a brief second, she was convinced.

"Okay. That's.. great, actually. Thank you." She hung up and got up from the table, rushing into the living room where Fred and Dean were anxiously waiting with their own failed lists. Her face lit up. "I got one."

Beatrice knocked on the door. Fred and Dean lingered behind her at the bottom of the house's steps. After a moment, just as Beatrice was ready to give up and return to the car, a man opened the door. "Hi!" Beatrice said, "uh, is this uh, Daphne Allen's house? I'm looking for Emmanuel."

"Well, found him," the man said, "Daphne's resting, if you don't mind."

"Oh, yeah. Sure." Beatrice stepped back so Emmanuel could come outside and close the door. She exchanged a glance with Dean and Fred, both of whom were smiling hopefully. "So, I was hoping, uh..."

Beatrice trailed off. Inside, a woman was bound and gagged. Beatrice looked back at Emmanuel, alarmed. His eyes flashed black, and he grinned, throwing Beatrice against the door. "You were saying, Beatrice?"

"You know," Dean said at the bottom of the stairs, approaching the two of them quickly, "I'd think twice. Or don't you know that your boss issued a hands off memo?"

The demon laughed, "please. What have you done for him lately? Roman's head on a plate? No. Whatever Emmanuel is, Crowley's going to want him. A lot more than he wants you these days, so-" The demon started towards Dean but Fred apprehended him from behind Dean, stabbing him in the neck. Light flashed behind his face as he died and Fred shoved him down the stairs.

He fell at the feet of a man.

Fred looked up at the man, from his feet, to his face. Her eyes widened. Of all the people she expected to be looking back at her, it certainly wasn't Castiel. He looked from the corpse, back up to Fred. "What was that?"

Emmanuel gently undid the bounds around Daphne's wrists and ankles. "That creature hurt you," he said softly. Daphne shook her head, rubbing the feeling back into her wrists.

"I'm okay. But Emmanuel... they were looking for _you_."

"It's okay," he assured her, then turned back to the group. Beatrice and Dean were lingering behind Fred, who had gone very pale. He held his hand out towards her and she shook it, her hands trembling. "I'm Emmanuel."

"Fred. I'm... Fred."

"Thank you for protecting my wife."

Fred swallowed hard. "Your wife. Right."

"I saw his face. His _real _face."

"He was a demon."

Emmanuel looked horrified. "A demon walked the Earth."

"Demons," Dean interrupted. He had caught the shake in Fred's voice. "Whackloads of them. You don't know about...?" He trailed off, looking at Emmanuel who stared back at him, clueless.

"You saw the demon's true face," Daphne said softly to Emmanuel, then turned to the rest of the group, "Emmanuel has very special gifts." She explained.

"Yeah." Beatrice cut in, "I've heard about that... Emmanuel. That you can heal people."

"I seem to be able to help to a certain degree. What's your issue?"

"My fiance."

"So... Daphne, is that, uh... your wife?" Fred asked awkwardly. She and Emmanuel were sat in the back while Beatrice and Dean occupied the front of the jeep. Emmanuel smiled.

"She found me and cared for me."

"Meaning?"

"Oh, it's... a strange story. You may not like it."

"Believe me," she sighed, "I will."

"A few months ago, she was hiking by the river, and I wandered into her path, drenched and confused and... unclothed. I had no memory. She said God wanted her to find me." He explained with the same smile. Fred clamped her jaw to fight back tears.

"So who named you Emmanuel?"

" ."

"Well, it's working for you. Must be weird not knowing who you are."

"Well, it's my life." His smile grew. "And it's a good life."

Fred turned to look out of the window. Tears rolled down her cheeks, which Dean noticed in the rear view mirror, so he quickly took up the conversation, "yeah, well, what if you were some kind of... I don't know... bad guy?"

"Oh, I don't feel like a bad person." Emmanuel said. He looked at the back of Beatrice's head, "so, your fiance..."

"Sam," she said.

"Sam. What's his diagnosis?"

"Well... it's not exactly medical."

"That should be fine. I can cure illness of a spiritual origin."

"Spiritual?" Beatrice grit her teeth. "Okay. Someone did this to him."

"You're angry."

"Dude broke my brother's head," Dean grumbled.

"He betrayed you, this... dude. He was your friend?"

"Yeah. Well, he's gone."

"Did you kill him? I sense that you kill a lot of people."

"Honestly, I... I don't know if he's dead. I just know that this whole thing couldn't be messier. You know, I used to be able to shake this stuff off. You know, whatever it was, it might take me some time, but I... I always could. What Cas did.. I just can't. I don't know why." He vented.

"Well, it doesn't matter why." Emmanuel said. Dean scoffed.

"Of course it matters."

"No, you're not a machine, Dean. None of you are. You're human. Well, except for you Beatrice, but you're not a bad person. Your friend's name was Cas? That's an odd name."

The jeep came to a stop. "Okay, just uh... sit tight. I'll be right out, okay?" He got out of the jeep and left Fred, Beatrice and Emmanuel alone in the vehicle. Fred wiped her tears and turned back to Emmanuel, who was studying her quietly.

"Cas... you were close to him, weren't you?" He asked. Fred nodded.

"You could say that. Yeah."

"He hurt you."

Fred nodded. "He did. But... I forgave him. Of course I do. Cas was... everything to me, you know? He screwed up, I know that, but I loved him. _Fuck_," a sob tore through her chest, "I still love him. I'll never stop."

Emmanuel smiled sadly at her, "soulmates?"

She laughed bitterly. "You have no idea."

Dean came out of the convenience store, followed closely by Meg. Beatrice and Fred tensed up, and when they got in the car, Emmanuel gasped, moving away from her as she got in the back and Fred slid silently into the middle seat. "Her face!" Emmanuel cried, terrified, "she's one of-"

"It's okay," Meg interrupted, "we come in different flavours."

"She's uh, a friend," Dean tried to explain.

"Meg," she introduced herself, "just here for moral support. I mean, after all, we go way back. Dean and Beatrice and Freddy and me. Just met you, of course. But I think we're gonna be good friends too."

"Alright," Beatrice snapped, "can we go?"

"The silence is very uncomfortable," Emmanuel said awkwardly, looking between Dean and Beatrice in the front and Fred and Meg beside him in the back, "is there something I should know?"

"I don't know," Meg said, "Dean?"

"No. Meg has that effect," Dean said quickly, "awkward. You know?"

"That must be difficult for you." Emmanuel nodded.

"Dean's making a joke, Emmanuel." Meg smirked.

"Oh."

Beatrice peered through the binoculars at the hospital entrance. "Damn it. Demons." She mumbled, handing the binoculars to Fred, who cursed under her breath at the sight.

"All of them?" Dean asked.

"No grass growing under your feet," Meg scoffed.

"How many of those knives do you have?" Emmanuel asked, looking at the demon killing knife which Fred had acquired possession of and tucked into a little leather holster which was strapped around her thigh. She motioned to the one she had. "Well then, forgive me, but what do we do?"

"Yeah, Dean," Meg grinned, "got any other ideas on how we could blast through that?"

"Excuse us. Meg?" Dean grabbed Meg's arm and tugged her a short distance away. Emmanuel turned to Fred and Beatrice, who were looking at one another in discomfort.

"I gather we know each other," Emmanuel concluded. Beatrice smiled, but it was strained.

"Just a little."

"You can tell me. I'll be fine."

"How do you know?" Beatrice said, "you just met yourself. I've known you years."

"You're an Angel," Fred interrupted. Emmanuel stared at her.

"I'm sorry? Is that a flirtation?"

"No, it's a species," she sighed, "it's a very powerful one. I'm not lying, okay? That's why you heal people. You don't eat. You don't sleep. I'm sure there's more."

"Why wouldn't you tell me?" Emmanuel asked quietly, "being an Angel, it sounds pleasant."

Fred laughed. The sound was hollow. "It's not, trust me. It's bloody. It's corrupt. It's not _pleasant_."

Emmanuel looked at the two girls. Something clicked in his brain. "We're friends," he said, and then his eyes widened and he added in a shaky voice, "am... am I Cas? I had no idea. I don't remember you. I'm sorry."

"Look," Beatrice sighed, "you've got the juice. You can smite every demon in that lot."

"But I don't remember how!"

"It's in there. I'm sure it's just like riding a bike."

"I don't know how to do that, either," Emmanuel said. He looked at Fred and Beatrice, who stared intently back at him so he deflated and nodded, "alright. I'll try."

"This isn't going to go well," Beatrice mumbled to Fred, but for the first time in months, Fred smiled. Genuinely.

"I don't know. I believe in him."

Emmanuel sauntered past Meg and Dean. They both stared at him, dumbfounded. "Emmanuel?" Dean said, "where are you going? Emmanuel? Emmanuel!"

The girls watched from the hillside. Emmanuel slaughtered every demon on the perimeter with ease. He staggered back from the massacre, looking back at Fred. He came towards her, taking her face gently in his hand. "I remember you," he mumbled, but he looked ashamed, not relieved, "I remember everything. What I did... What I _became_... Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because Sam is dying in there," Dean said.

"Because of me!" Cas said, enraged with himself, "everything. All these people... I shouldn't be here." He let go of Fred's face and stormed past them, heading away from the parking lot. Fred's face fell.

"Cas. Castiel!" She turned to Meg and glared, "you stay here. Cas! If you remember, then you know you did the best you could at the time," she pleaded with him.

"Don't defend me. Do you have any idea of the death toll in Heaven? On Earth?" He cried. She said nothing. He turned back to face her, "we didn't part lovers, Winifred."

"So what?"

"I deserved to die! Now, I can't possibly fix it. So why did I even walk out of that river?"

Fred hesitated. "Maybe to fix it. Wait!" She rushed back to the car and returned with Castiel's trenchcoat in her arms. His eyes widened as he took it from her, weighing the material over in his hands.

"You kept it."

"I couldn't get rid of it."

Castiel looked over at the group. "Beatrice is pregnant."

"Yes."

"I... I think I was protecting the baby. Subconsciously."

"She thought so too." Fred nodded. "I missed you, Castiel."

A small smile came onto the angel's face and for the first time in months, he hugged her. Fred's knees gave out and she collapsed, sobbing, into his chest. He held her tightly to him, burying his face in her hair. "I'm back. I promise you, I'm back, and I'm not going anywhere ever again. I love you so much, Winifred."

"I love you too." She cried. She pulled back, wiping her eyes, "what do you say we go and save some Winchester ass?"

Castiel smiled. "I'd like that."

Fred, Dean and Beatrice paced anxiously around the hospital waiting room. It felt like hours since Castiel had gone into the psychiatric ward. It had only been ten minutes. He appeared in the doorway. "Come with me," he said. His tone was monotone, as usual, but there was something else there too. Regret, maybe. Fear. Sam was laying in the bed, worse than he had been when Beatrice last saw him. Her heart shattered. "I don't think there's anything I can do."

"What the hell do you mean you _can't_?" Beatrice cried.

"I mean there's nothing left to rebuild."

"Why not?"

"Because it crumbled. The pieces got crushed to dust by whatever's happening inside his head right now." Castiel explained. He avoided Beatrice's gaze but she could still hear the remorse in his voice.

"So you're saying there's nothing? That he's gonna be like this until his candle blows out?"

"I'm sorry," Castiel sighed, "this isn't a problem I can make disappear. And you know that." He paused, looking at Sam, "but I may be able to shift it."

"Shift?" Dean said.

"Yes. It would get Sam back on his feet." Castiel sat on the bed beside Sam. "It's... better this way. I'll be fine." The Angel placed his hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam flinched at the touch.

"Cas, what are you doing?" Fred panicked.

"Now, Sam," Cas said softly, "I'm sorry I ever did this to you."

Castiel placed his hand on Sam's forehead. Sam's eyes and the veins in his neck glowed red. The red glow travelled from Sam up Castiel's arms and to his face, until his eyes flashed red too and Sam gasped for breath. "I'm sorry, Winifred," Castiel choked out, and then he was gone and Sam broke away from him.

"Sam?" Beatrice cried. Sam looked up at her, bewildered.

"Beatrice?"

"Sammy!" She collapsed in his arms and he pulled her close to him on the bed.

"Castiel?" Fred whispered. The Angel didn't look at her. He looked at a blank space by the window and backed up, terrified and crying. Fred's eyes widened. "Cas, no. No no no no!"

He still didn't look.

"We can't just leave him," Sam said, approaching the car. Dean bit his lip.

"Well, we can't bring him with us. Everything on the planet's out for us, okay? Word gets out, we can't protect him. Not really." The older Winchester looked sadly to Beatrice and Sam. "This is safer," Dean went on, "every demon who knows about Cas is dead."

"Not everyone," Beatrice reminded him, referring to Meg, "look, Dean, this whole 'enemy of my enemy is my friend' thing feels kind of like a demon deal."

"It's not a deal," he insisted, "it's..."

"It's what?"

"Mutually assured destruction. look, Bea, I get it. She's not our friend. We don't even have friends. All our friends are dead."

"Well, you certainly have experience. I'm impressed. Tell me, why do you want to join our staff?" Dr Kadinsky looked at Fred over the table. She smiled warmly at him.

"I really just want to help the patients. Watch over them. Not to be immodest, but I feel like I'd make a great fit." She said, folding her hands on her chuckled and smiled at her.

"I can't argue with that." He got up and held his hand out to her to shake, "welcome to the team, Nurse Beauregard."

Sam carefully unwrapped the piece of clay. He took it out, laying it as gently as he could on the table while Dean and Beatrice approached, both of them carrying a large tool box. "That's a lot of fuss over a caveman Lego," Dean said, dropping the tool box beside the clay. Sam sighed and shrugged.

"Yeah, well, whatever Dick wants is bricked up inside that."

Dean lifted the mallet out of the toolbox and swung it above her head, bringing it back down on the clay. Thunder clapped overhead. Dean stopped and exchanged a glance with Sam and Beatrice. The clay hadn't cracked. Dean attempted to hit it a handful of times but nothing happened. Beatrice scowled and took over, lifting her hand over the clay. She stopped, looking up at the sky as lightening flashed and filled the room. "That sound like somebody saying 'no, wait, stop', to you?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah." Sam nodded.

"Yeah. Oh well." She held her hand out over it again. The clay exploded beneath her fingers. She reached and lifted out the tablet which was covered in little inscriptions in a language she didn't understand. "Okay, great," she said, holding it up and inspecting it carefully, "now what?"

Beatrice woke up on the couch in the middle of the abandoned building. Sam was across the room at the table, listening to the news. Dean was washing his face in the sink. On the floor by Beatrice's feet, a metal up shifted slightly. Beatrice sat up and stared at it. "Bobby? Bobby, that you?" She said.

"Think so," Sam held up a flashing EMF meter towards her without looking up from his laptop, "but that whole adventure at Roman's seems to have drained his batteries."

"So, what? We start the storm heard around the world?" Dean said, clearly referring to the news he and Sam had been listening to, but Beatrice had clearly missed due to her sleeping in.

"When we broke this thing open last night," Sam tapped the tablet lightly, "every maternity ward within a hundred mile radius got slammed. Looks like any woman in the last month of her pregnancy went into labour."

Beatrice's hands flew to her stomach. She couldn't help but feel lucky she was in the early stages of pregnancy. She really didn't feel ready to be a mother that night. "So heavyweight signs, omens... what have we got?" She asked, looking over to the tablet.

"I assume it's writing," Sam said, "but I've never seen anything like it, ever. And it doesn't match anything in any book or online."

"Alright, so big daddy chomper lands here," Dean said, "he grabs himself some Dick, and then he starts secretly underwriting university departments, pouring money into digs, all for this. Why?"

"No clue. We do know that he will be tearing new ones until he gets it back, though? Look, we've got to take a minute, hole up somewhere safe, find out what we've got."

"Rufus' cabin, then?" Beatrice said.

"Yeah."

"This time, I'm doing the shopping." She smiled. In her pocket, her phone rang, startling her. She peered at the caller ID, and couldn't help but smile, "it's Fred." She pressed the green button and held it to her ear, "hi, Freddy."

"Bea," she said. Beatrice could almost hear the smile in her voice, "I just wanted to let you know, Cas is awake."

Beatrice gasped and put the phone on loudspeaker. "Cas is awake! When?"

"Last night, about eight."

"And you waited until now to call us?" Dean said.

"I've been busy with Cas," Fred replied, "he's... different."

"What do you mean, different?" Dean said.

"Look, Dean, I... I'm not a nurse. I think you should get down here."

The line went dead. Sam, Dean and Beatrice exchanged a glance. "Great," Sam sighed, "so... Indiana?"

"Eight o clock. Same time we opened up that thing." Beatrice mumbled.

Fred waited in the doorway for the trio to arrive. In Castiel's room, he was stood by the window, peering out with little emotion. She could see the three of them approaching down the corridor, but they were intercepted by an orderly. "Hey, excuse me, but it's way past visiting hours," he said sternly. Fred smiled at him as he got closer.

"It's okay, Abel," she said softly, "I've been expecting them."

She stood aside to let them into the room. "Hey, Cas," Dean said softly. Castiel turned away from the window and smiled back at them, but it wasn't his usual smile. It was sort of dreamy.

"Hello. Dean, Sam, Beatrice."

"Look at you, walking and talking. That's great, right?" Beatrice smiled.

Castiel moved away from the window and approached her. "Pull my finger."

She stared at him. "What?"

"My finger. Pull it." He held it out towards her expectantly.

Beatrice hesitated, and looked at Fred across the room but she nodded, so Beatrice obediently gave Castiel's finger a little tug. There was a great crash, and the glass around the window and light fixtures smashed. Castiel laughed brightly as Fred turned on a lamp. "Okay, just... hang on, Cas. Wait. Let us catch up to you for a second," Dean pleaded.

"So you're saying you remember who you are. _What_ you are?"

"Yes, of course," Castiel confirmed, "oh! Outside today, in the garden, I followed a honeybee. I saw the route of flowers. It's alright there, the whole plan. There's nothing to add." He turned to Fred, beaming, "will you look at her? My caretaker. All of that... thorny pain. So beautiful!"

"We've been over this, I don't like poetry," Fred reminded him, but Beatrice caught the blush on her face.

"Okay, so Cas, you said you woke up last night?" Sam asked.

"Yes. I heard a ping that pierced me, and, well, you wouldn't have heard it unless you were an angel at the time." He explained. Sam handed him the bag containing the stone tablet, which he inspected carefully.

"That's also when we opened this," Beatrice told him.

"Oh. Of course. Now I understand."

"Understand what?"

"You were the ones. Well... I guess that makes sense."

"_What _makes sense?" Dean snapped, frustrated that he couldn't understand.

"If someone was going to free the Word from the vault of the Earth, it would end up being you three. Oh, I love you guys!" Castiel attempted to wrap the trio in a hug, and he motioned for Fred to join in, which she awkwardly did, patting Castiel on the back.

"Oh, okay, alright, okay." Beatrice pulled back. "You said something about 'The Word'. Is that what's written here?" She asked, pointing to the tablet. Castiel turned away from them in thought.

"Did you know that a Cat's penis is sharply barbed along its shaft? I know for a fact the female's were not consulted about that." He mused. Dean groaned in frustration.

"Cas, please,we're losing ground out there, okay? We need your help. Can you not see that?"

Castiel inspected the tablet closer. "This is the handwriting of Metatron."

"Metatron?" Sam said, "you're saying a Transformer wrote that?"

"No," Fred corrected him, "that's Megatron."

"What?"

"The Transformer. It's Megatron."

"Metatron," Castiel went on, ignoring them, "he's an Angel. He's the scribe of God. He took down dictation when creation was being formed."

"And that's the word of God?" Sam asked.

"One of them. Yes."

"Uh, well, what's it say?"

"Uh... 'tree'. 'Horse'. 'Fiddler crab'. I can't read it. I wasn't meant for Angels."

Behind Fred, Meg appeared. "Okay, this all sounds bad," the demon mused, "what are you jackasses doing with the word of God? Let me see that thing."

"Back off, Meg," Fred threatened her.

"Come on! It's my ass too!"

"Back off!"

"Damn it! Enough of this 'demons are second class citizens' crap!"

"Don't like conflict!" Castiel announced, and with that, he was gone. The tablet smashed into three identical pieces on the floor.

"What the hell was that?" Dean demanded.

"You heard him," Fred sighed tiredly, "he doesn't like conflict. He's down in the day room now, I guarantee it. Alright, I'll go handle Cas. Sam, will you please pick up the word of God?" Fred didn't wait for a reply. She pushed past the others and went downstairs where Castiel was in the day room like she'd predicted. "Hi. You realise you just broke God's word?" She said. Castiel looked at her, but didn't reply, "it's Sam's thing, isn't it? You taking on his uh, cage match scars. I'm guessing that's what did this. Right?"

"Well it took... everything, to get me here."

"What are you talking about?"

"Winifred, I know you want different answers."

"No. I want you to button up your coat and help us take down Leviathans. Do you remember what you did?" She tried to keep her voice level but rage was rising in her that she was struggling to control. Castiel held up a board game called 'Sorry!', which he shook, and in a split second it was set up on the table.

"Do you want to go first?" He offered. Fred hesitated, but picked up a 'Sorry!' card. "You know, we weren't sure at first which monkeys were going to make it. No offence, but I..." he trailed off, watching Fred move a marker, "...was backing the Neanderthals because their poetry was... just amazing. It's in perfect tune," he paused to pick up a card, "with the spheres. But in the end, it was you, homo sapiens sapiens. You guys ate the apple. Invented pants."

"Cas, where can we find this uh, Metatron? Is he still alive?"

"I'm sorry," Castiel told her softly,"I... I think you have to go back to the start."

Fred obediently moved her marker back to the beginning. "This is important," she said, picking up another card, "I think Metatron could stop a lot of bad? You understand that?"

"We live in a 'sorry' universe. It's engineered to create conflict. I mean, why should I prosper from your misfortune? But these are the rules. I didn't make them."

"You made some of them," she argued, starting to lose her temper a little bit, "when you tried to become God. When you cut that hole into the wall." He looked back at her blankly, frustrating her more.

"Winifred. It's your move."

Fred slammed her fist on the table, upsetting some of the game pieces. "Forget the damn game! Forget the game, Cas." She was close to tears but she refused to cry anymore. Castiel looked down at the table.

"I'm sorry, Winifred."

"No," she mumbled, "you're playing 'Sorry!'"

Castiel stopped to pickup the game pieces. He stopped doing that all of a sudden and looked up at Fred, alarmed. She looked back at him, "what?" She asked. He looked up at the ceiling.

"They're talking to Angels."

Castiel grabbed Fred's eyes and within a blink, she was back in his room. Meg, Sam, Dean and Beatrice were in a standoff with two angels. "Castiel?" The male angel demanded, not quite believing what he was seeing. Castiel smiled.

"Hi."

"You're alive?" The male angel cried. The female glared.

"You," she snarled.

"Hello, Hester," Castiel greeted her with little warmth.

"You smote thousands in Heaven. You gave a big, scary speech. Then you were gone. What the hell was that?"

"Rude, for one thing."

"Where have you_been_?"

"Oh, Inias. Hester. I... I know you want something. Answers? I.. I wish it could be that. There are still many things I can teach you. I can offer, um, well, perspective. Here." Castiel held his finger out towards Hester, "pull my finger," he offered. Hester didn't move. Castiel looked taken aback, "uh, Fred will... get another light, and I'll.. I'll blow it out again. And well, this time, it'll be funny, and we'll all look back and laugh." He looked at her hopefully. She scoffed.

"You're insane."

"Hey," Fred snapped. Hester and Inias turned to face her in the doorway. "Heads up, sunshine." She slammed her hand against a small angel banishing sigil she'd scribbled on the door. There was a flash, and then the angels vanished. "All angels blown back to their corners. We got like three, four hours tops."

Sam pointed to the knife Meg had clutched in her hand. "Meg, where'd you get that?"

"A lot of angels died this year."

"What's happening? _What's happening_?" A teenage boy on Castiel's bed was fretting, clutching the Word of God closely to his chest. Fred stared at him. In all the commotion, she hadn't noticed him.

"Who's that?"

"It's uh, Kevin Tran," Sam said, "he's in advanced placement."

Kevin held the stone a little tighter. "So, these... 'Leviathans'... these monsters, are... real? And angels... with wings?"

"Yeah," Dean confirmed, "so Kevin, you can uh, read the chicken scratch on the God rock, huh?"

"Uh, I..."

"That is back in one piece, I see," Dean added, "and you're saying there's some sort of a 'how to punch Dick' recipe in there somewhere?" He looked at Kevin intently. The boy wriggled uncomfortably under Dean's gaze.

"I don't know what you're saying." He admitted, "but it seems kind of like an 'in case of emergency' note. What did they mean by prophet?" He looked up at them. Fred looked at the others, horrified.

"Oh no. Really?" She said.

"Yeah," Sam confirmed with a sigh, "that's what the angel said."

"I don't want to be a prophet," Kevin said. Fred looked at him, shaking her head.

"No. You don't at all."

"Gentlemen," Meg interrupted, "we've got to start running and hiding. Or do we want to tangle with those wing nuts twice?" Beatrice stared at her like she'd lost her mind.

"I'm sorry," she laughed, "did you say 'we'?"

"I'm on the angel's radar now. You think I don't need a little safety in numbers?"

"Alright," Beatrice said angrily, "we'll go to Rufus' cabin. Kid can do his book report there."

Kevin awoke with a start. They'd hide to hire a new minivan to fit everybody in, and it was highly uncomfortable. Sam and Dean sat in the front, Fred and Kevin sat in the middle, while Beatrice and Meg occupied the back. Kevin startled awake suddenly. He bolted upright and looked at Fred, terrified. "Oh, God," he groaned.

"What?" Fred asked.

"Nothing, nothing," he stammered, "just... my life. My future... my girlfriend. My Mom's car."

Fred's phone rang and she picked it up. "Castiel? Yeah, it's me."

"Cas?" Dean demanded from the front, "where? Where is he?"

"Shut up!" Fred snapped at him.

"I'll stop speaking," Cas said. Fred shook her head even though he couldn't see her.

"No, no. Cas, you talk."

"I'm in a place called Perth," he told her.

"Perth? Perth as in Australia?"

"I'm surrounded by unhappy Dogs."

"Dogs? What Dogs?" She covered the mouthpiece and announced, "he said he's surrounded by unhappy Dogs."

"They're chasing a rabbit around a big circle." Castiel clarified.

"Oh, okay, he's at a Dog track in Perth."

"I'm surrounded by large, unhappy Dogs."

"They're unhappy because the rabbit's not real. Listen, we're on highway ninety four, north of St Cloud, Minnesota. Just passing mile marker seventy nine." Fred explained. Castiel appeared in the van in between her and Kevin, who yelped. "Kevin, this is Castiel."

"You're one of the angels?" Kevin stammered.

Castiel reached out and gently tapped Kevin's nose. "Boop. Winifred, are you hurt?"

"No."

"Cas, what happened back there?" Beatrice asked in the back street, "who were those guys?

"They're from the Garrison, my old Garrison. Looks like Hester's taken over. We were assigned to watch the Earth. Often, it was boring. The wars were very boring, and the sex, you know, the repetition. Anyway, I was uh, I was their captain. Isn't that strange?"

"Cas, why are they pissed at us now?" Sam said.

Castiel ignored him and turned back to Fred with a far away look on his face. "You know, those racing Dogs were absolutely miserable. They can only think in ovals."

"Cas, don't make me pull this car over!" Dean yelled, "why are angels after us?"

"Are you angry? Why are you angry?" Cas asked.

"No, I-I'm... please, can we just stay on target?"

"There is no reason for anger. They're only following protocol. If the Word of God is revealed, a keeper of the Word will awaken. Like this," he tapped Kevin's nose again, "hot potato right here."

Kevin scowled and slapped Castiel's hand away. "Please stop that."

"Anyway, Garrison code dictates you take the keeper to the desert to learn the word away from men."

"What kind of sense does that make?" Beatrice asked, "he has to tell us so that we can use it."

"That's God and his shiny red apples," Castiel shrugged.

"I can't live in the desert!" Kevin cried, "I'm applying to Princeton!"

"Okay, you know what?" Dean said angrily, "screw the Garrison. We need the tablet to end Sick Roman's 'Soylent Us' crap."

"If you want the Word, you'll have to duck Hester and her soldiers." Castiel reminded him.

"You're in our corner, right, Cas?" Fred prompted him, but to her dismay, Castiel shook his head and turned to look past her out of the window, the far off smile returning to his face.

"No, I don't fight anymore. I watch the bees."

Castiel finished scrawling a symbol in white chalk on the wall of Rufus' cabin. "Let's leave off angel proofing sigils or I'll be expelled, too," he suggested, stepping away from the wall.

"As long as we're invisible to your Garrison buddies, it works for me." Sam shrugged. He watched as Castiel laid down on the couch and rested his head on Fred's lap. She played with his hair absently. Castiel looked up at Sam, his eyes narrowed in thought.

"You seem troubled," Castiel noted, "of course, that's a primary aspect of your personality, so I sometimes ignore it."

"Okay, um, right now I'm just wondering about you." Sam admitted.

"What about me? You're worried about the burden I lifted from you."

"I think I was done for," Sam sighed, "do you see Lucifer?"

"I did at first," Castiel confirmed to them with a nod, "but that was... it was a projection of yours, I think, sort of an aftertaste. Now I more see... well, everything." He looked up at Fred with a small smile, "it's funny. I was done for, too. The weight of all my mistakes, all those lives and souls lost, I... I couldn't take it, either. I was... I was lost until I took on your pain. It's strange to think that that helped, but..." He trailed off, looking up at Sam and Fred. Sam said nothing, so Fred did instead.

"We know you never did anything but try to help. I realise that, Cas, and I'm grateful. We're all grateful. And we're gonna help you get better, okay? No matter what it takes."

Castiel frowned. "What do you mean, better?"

When Meg returned to the cabin, everyone was awake and waiting. She tried to come through the hallway, but found herself trapped in the devil's Trap which had been hidden under a rug. "Didn't expect to see you back," Beatrice said casually, getting up from the sofa, "not without the King's army." She held out her hand, "knife."

Meg rolled her eyes and handed the knife to Beatrice. "Typical," she snaps, "I save our bacon, and you're sitting here, waiting by a devil's trap. Seriously, I just killed two of Crowley's men. I could have gone the other way on that."

"It's true, incidentally," Castiel said from the sofa, "there's other demons' blood on that blade."

"Look, I'm simpler than you think. I've figured one thing out about this world, just one, pretty much. You find a cause, and you serve it. Give yourself over, and it orders your life. Lucifer and Yellow Eyes? Their mission was it for me."

"So, what?" Dean demanded, "we should trust you because you wanted to free Satan from Hell?"

"I'm talking 'cause', douchebag, as in reason to get up in the morning. Obviously, these things shift over time. We learn, we grow. Now, for me currently, the cause is bringing down the king. And I know we'll need help to do it."

"Crowley ain't the problem this year," Dean reminded her, but Meg scoffed.

"When are you gonna get it? Crowley's always the problem. He's just waiting for the right moment to strike. I know what I'm supposed to do. And it isn't screw with the Winchesters and their posse."

Fred hesitated, but she broke the devil's trap with her foot. Castiel beamed, "this is good," he said, "harmony and communication. Now our only problem is Hester."

"What?" Fred said.

"Well, here, we're hidden from the Garrison. But when Meg killed a demon, she put out a pretty clear beacon."

Fred started to realise just what that meant and her stomach dropped. "We need better angel proofing now!"

The door burst open. Hester and Inais rushed in. "You took the prophet from us?" Hester demanded at Castiel. Her gaze was hardened.

Castiel stared at her, clueless, "I'm... I'm sorry?"

"You have fallen in every way imaginable."

"Please, Castiel," Inais pleaded, "we have to follow the code. Help us do our work."

"He can't help you," Dean scoffed, "he can't help anybody."

"We don't need his help," Hester snarled, "or his permission." She looked to Inais who disappeared. She looked back at the group, "the keeper goes to the desert tonight." Inais returned with Kevin in his grip.

"Whoa, whoa whoa. Back off," Fred snapped, "we're actually trying to clean up one of your angel's messes! You know that!"

"She's right," Castiel confirmed, "an angel brought the Leviathan back into this world, and... and they begged him. They begged him not to do it."

"Look, just give us more time, okay?" Fred pleaded, "we will take care of your Prophet."

"Why should we give _you_ anything after everything you have taken from us? The very touch of you corrupts. When Castiel first laid a hand on Dean in Hell, he was lost! For that, you will all pay." Hester advanced on Fred, who found herself backing up, terrified.

"Please," Castiel pleaded, stepping in front of Fred. "They're the ones we were put here to protect."

"No, Castiel," Hester snarled. She backhanded Castiel and he fell backwards. Beatrice immediately tried to attack the angels telepathically, but Inais stopped her and restricted all of them from getting to Hester and Castiel. The female angel punched Castiel repeatedly. "No more madness! No more promises! No more new Gods!" She slipped an angel blade from her inside jacket, but Inais' eyes widened in horror, clearly not expecting this outcome.

"Hester! No! Please, there's so few of us left!" Inais pleaded but Hester pushed him away.

"You wanted free will," Hester snarled to Castiel, "now I'm making the choices." She raised the blade high above her head, but light filled her body and she slumped back, dead. Meg shrugged, stepping back with her own blade.

"What? Someone had to."

"These are strange times." Inais said to Castiel, helping him up and healing his wounds. Castiel nodded.

"I think they've always been," he said.

"I wish you'd come with us."

"Oh, I'm not part of the Garrison anymore, Inais. I'm sorry."

Beatrice approached Kevin at the table who had just finished translating the tablet into a notebook which he handed to Beatrice. "Thanks, Kevin. Not a lot of people could have handled this. You doing alright?"

He nodded, but it was shaky. "Yeah."

"Are you ready, Kevin Tran?" Inais asked. Kevin nodded. Inais placed his hand on Kevin's shoulder. "We will bring the keeper to his home. We can watch over him there." The two of them disappeared.

"I couldn't find Meg anywhere," Fred said. Castiel shrugged.

"Yes, well, she enjoys laying low."

Beatrice held up the notebook, "here. 'Leviathan cannot be slain but by a bone of a righteous mortal washed in the three bloods of the fallen'. Uh, it says we need to start with the blood of a fallen angel."

Everyone turned expectantly to Castiel who smiled and held out a vial he'd already prepared, "well, you know me. I'm always happy to bleed for the Winchesters."

Dean took the vial but he didn't smile. "What are you gonna do, Cas?"

"I don't know," Castiel said, "isn't that exciting?" And then, he was gone.

"Castiel." Dick looked at the angel and grinned, "good to see you again. Thanks for the ride into paradise." He watched as Dean took out a sharpened, bloody bone, "and good on you, pulling that together!"

"Oh, you don't think this'll work, do you?" Dean laughed, "you trust that demon?"

"You sure I'm even me, Dean?" Dick challenged him.

"No," Dean admitted, "but he is. See, here's the thing when dealing with Crowley. He will always find a way to bone you."

The door opened. Fred stumbled in. When Castiel lunged at Dick, he saw her come in and he panicked. "Beatrice!" He called through behind the glass where Sam, Beatrice and Kevin were watching, horrified. Beatrice threw open the door, while Castiel pushed Fred telepathically into the room, and despite her screams and protests, she found herself locked in the second lab with the others. In Castiel's distraction Dick had managed to snap the bone in two and he laughed brightly.

"Did you really think you could trump me?" He mocked them. Dean smiled.

"Honestly? No." The oldest brother took a second bone from his inner pocket and impaled the Leviathan's neck on the bone. "Figured we'd have to catch you off guard."

Dick's head opened, revealing his long rows of teeth as black goo poured from his open wound and he screamed in agony. The energy in the room excelled to an almost unbearable point and despite herself, Fred was forced to look away. Everyone was. There was an unsettling 'pop', and when Fred looked up, the office was empty. The walls were splashed with black blood, confirming Dick's demise, but Castiel and Dean were nowhere to be seen.

Fred leaned forward against the glass, pressing her hands desperately against it. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. But when she looked into that room, only one tiny, feeble word came out,

"Castiel?"


	8. Chapter 8

Season 8

On the other side of the bedroom, there was a small crash.

It wasn't overly loud, but it was enough to tear Beatrice from her sleep and she sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes and looking around the room, dazed. "Sam?" She mumbled. Her voice was heavy with sleep, but Sam heard her clearly enough and he froze in the doorway he had been attempting to leave through. "What are you doing?"

Sam didn't say anything. He didn't need to. Beatrice sighed and rubbed her forehead in what appeared to be frustration, but could have been the beginnings of a headache. "You're going back to that cabin, aren't you?" She asked.

Sam looked away from her sheepishly. "I have to."

"No you don't," she said. "You've been going there every week for the past year, and none of them have ever been there. Fred, Dean, Castiel... they're gone, Sammy."

"But what if this time..." He trailed off. He knew she was right. He dropped his bag by the door and climbed back into bed with her. "You're right, I'm sorry."

"No, don't be sorry," Beatrice sighed, "I get it. I want to find them as much as you do but this isn't who we are anymore. Fred made it very clear what she was going to do, and Dean and Castiel..." She looked up into the face of her husband. He was looking down at his hands, clamping his jaw as though he was fighting back tears, and Beatrice's heart swelled with guilt. "Alright," she said, "let's go to the cabin, all of us." She smiled warmly at him and he looked at her, surprised.

"Really?"

"Why not? It might be nice to take Lavender out anyway."

Sam's face lit up. "Thanks, Bea."

"Why don't you pack us a bag? I'll go get Lav ready."

Beatrice got out of bed and crossed the hallway to the opposite bedroom. Outside of the closed door, a white Golden Retriever was sleeping, protecting the child inside. Beatrice smiled, endeared, and opened the door, stepping over the dog to go in. To her surprise, the baby was already awake, looking up at Beatrice with wide, curious eyes as she approached. She lifted her daughter from the crib. "It's very late. You should be asleep," she told her softly, adjusting the footed pyjamas so they weren't twisted. "But it doesn't matter now, I suppose. We're going to go on a little adventure. Would you like that?"

Sam appeared silently in the doorway behind Beatrice and he watched her interact with their child. He watched her gentle hands as she cradled the baby close to her chest, heard her soft voice as she sang an old Korean lullaby, and saw the relief on her face when Lavender drifted back to sleep in her arms. "Are you ready to go?" He asked.

Beatrice nodded and turned to face him. "Ready."

The Impala pulled up outside Rufus' cabin. Even a year on, it felt strange being in the car without Dean in the driver's seat. It was even stranger to have Lavender sleeping in her car seat in the back, even though by the time they pulled up, it was mid morning, and daylight streamed through the car's windows. It was stranger still for Beatrice to have a large Golden Retriever sitting between her and Sam. "Someone's inside," Sam muttered.

He was right. The door was blown wide open, and Beatrice looked up just in time to see a figure move past the window. She froze. "Wait here with Lavender," Sam told her.

"No, you wait," Beatrice argued. "You're unarmed. I'm still a witch."

It was odd to hear her say it. Since their wedding, they had left behind all talk of hunting and demons and angels, and even Beatrice's powers. She hadn't used them in over a year, which concerned Sam, but she had gotten up from the car and gone into the cabin before he could try and stop her.

Beatrice snuck through the hallway, readying herself to attack, but someone intercepted her from behind and threw her to the ground. She cried out, rolling onto her back but water splashed onto her face. "What the hell?" She spluttered, coughing up a lungful of the water. She looked up into the face of Dean Winchester. "I'm not a demon!" She protested, the same time as Dean poured Borax over her. "Or a Leviathan," she insisted, "what-"

Dean grabbed her forearm and made a small incision with a silver knife. She gasped in pain. "Or a shifter," he concluded, "good. My turn. Come on, let's go." He got up and held the bottles and the knife out to Beatrice, who stared at him.

"I... I don't need to. I know it's you," she said.

"Dammit, Bea!" He splashed the Borax and holy water over himself and then held the knife out expectantly to Beatrice as she got to her feet. She didn't move. "Come on!"

"No! Dean, can I just say hello?"

Dean rolled his eyes and cut his own arm with the knife. "Alright." He nodded.

"I don't know whether to give you a hug or take a shower," she scoffed. Dean laughed delightedly and held his arms out towards her. "I can't believe you're alive," she said, "wait here. I'm gonna go get Sam."

"I'm not going anywhere," he called to her as she rushed to the doorway and motioned to Sam that it was safe to come in. Even from the Impala, he caught the grin on her face, which made its way onto his own face even though he didn't know why she was so pleased. He took Lavender from her car seat and carried her to the house, closely followed by the dog.

"We clear?" He asked. Beatrice smiled.

"Not exactly."

Dean came into the hallway behind them. When Sam saw him he gasped, and wrapped an arm tightly around him, careful not to crush Lavender between them. "Dude, you're _alive_." He backed up, looking at his older brother in shock and awe, "I mean, what the hell happened?"

Dean laughed again, but this time the sound was hollow. "Well, I guess standing too close to exploding Dick sends your ass straight to Purgatory." He said it with a haunted smile.

"You were in Purgatory?" Beatrice gasped, "for the whole year?"

"Yeah. Time flies when you're running for your life."

"Well, how'd you get out?"

"I guess whoever built that box didn't want me in there anymore than I did," he shrugged.

"What does that mean?"

"I'm here. Okay?"

"What about Cas?" Sam asked, "was he there?"

Dean's face fell. He moved away from them and went to the window, looking out at the Impala. His eyes were filled with emotion that didn't show on his face. "Yeah, Cas didn't make it."

"What exactly does that mean?" Beatrice demanded.

"Something happened to him down there," Dean said, still not facing them, "things got pretty hairy towards the end, and he... he just let go." He came back towards them and took two beers out of the fridge.

"So Cas is dead? Beatrice pressed. "You saw him die?"

Dean shrugged. "I saw enough."

"So, then what, you're not sure?"

Dean turned to glare at her, "I said I saw enough, Bea."

Beatrice looked at him, nodding solemnly. "Right. Dean, I'm sorry."

"Me too. So you... I can't believe you're actually here. You know that half your numbers are out of service? Felt like I was leaving messages in the wind." He sat down at the sofa and opened his beer. Sam and Beatrice didn't move from their spots. They exchanged an obvious, uneasy glance, and Sam laughed nervously.

"Yeah, we... we didn't get your messages." He said awkwardly.

"How come?" Dean asked.

"Probably because I ditched the phones."

"Because...?"

"I guess, um... I guess something happened to us this year. We don't hunt anymore."

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, and Sasha Grey's gone legit. What?"

"She did a Soderbergh movie," Beatrice said quietly. Dean stared at her.

"_What_?"

"She did a Soderbergh-"

"No, you, Bea! You _quit_?"

Beatrice sighed and sat down. "Yeah. You were gone, Dean! Cas was gone, Bobby was dead... I mean, Crowley even shipped off Kevin and Meg to parts unknown. And we're parents now, Dean. We couldn't risk putting our child in danger. She's our _daughter_."

"So you just turned your back on the family business."

"Nothing says 'family' quite like the whole family being dead." Beatrice grumbled.

"I wasn't dead," Dean said angrily. He got up and paced the room, enraged them both, "in fact, I was knee deep in God's armpit, killing monsters! Which, I thought, is exactly what we do."

"Yes, Dean," Beatrice said tiredly, "and as far as we knew, what we do is the thing that got every single member of our families killed. We had no one! _No one_. And for the first time in our lives, we were completely alone. We had each other. And then, six months later, we had Lavender. We didn't exactly have a roadmap. So yeah, we fixed up the Impala, and we just... drove."

"And you looked for me," Dean concluded. Neither of them said anything. "_Did_ you look for me? Good, that's... good. Now, we always told each other not to look for each other. That's smart. Good for you, of course, we always ignored that because of our deep, abiding love for each other, but not this time. Right?"

"Look," Sam sighed, "we're still the same people, Dean."

"Well, bully for you. I'm not." Dean stormed out of the room and slammed the door.

Beatrice sighed deeply. "Welcome back."

Dean rummaged angrily through a box of phones on Rufus' kitchen table. "You want some dinner?" Beatrice offered. She had Lavender tucked in one arm, asleep, while she used the other to stir a pot of something on the stove. Sam tapped away at his laptop in the other room while she cooked. Dean shook his head.

"Pass."

Beatrice sighed. "Okay."

She emptied the pot into a pair of bowls and took one to Sam, who smiled gratefully and accepted it. "You've done so much today," he said warmly, "I promise to take the night shift tonight."

Beatrice smiled at him and kissed the top of his head, "you're the best."

She returned to the kitchen where Dean was holding up a phone, a glare on his face. "What is it?" She asked. He scowled at her and put the phone on loudspeaker so she could hear the message he'd been listening to.

'_Hey guys, it's Kevin Tran. Crowley had me in this warehouse, and I just escaped. I don't know where I am. And I don't know if he, or... or any other demons are still after me. I need your help. Call me back. It's Kevin Tran.'_

"When was that?" Beatrice asked uneasily. Dean played another message.

'_It's Kevin Tran. I called you a week ago. Call me, please. I don't know what the hell I'm doing out here.'_

"Alright," Beatrice set down her fork by her bowl with a loud sigh and looked at Dean intently over the table, "I get it. So, what, you want to strategize or something?" Dean ignored her. He played a third message.

'_It's Kevin! I'm... whoo! I'm so good. Three months since you ditched my ass. Haven't slept for more than four hours a night. It's all good in the hood. Uh, if you're still alive, eat me!' _Dean played the final message. '_It's been six months. I can only assume you're dead. If not, don't try and reach me. You won't be able to. I won't be calling this number anymore."_

_ "_He was our responsibility!" Dean said angrily, slamming the phone on the table. "And you couldn't answer the damn phone."

Beatrice looked at the phone, tears in her eyes, but she pulled herself together long enough to realise something. "Hold on. Listen to this. Kevin's last message, listen to the background." She picked up the phone and replayed the last message Kevin had sent. "Hear that?" She said excitedly. Dean looked at her blankly.

"What is it?"

"I think he was on a bus. Listen again."

Beatrice played the message one more time. In the background, she could make out an automated woman's voice saying, '_last stop, Centreville'. _Dean got up and started to pace the kitchen again.

"Centreville? Centreville _where_?"

"Michigan."

"And why would Kevin be in Centreville, Michigan?"

"Because..." Beatrice trailed off and rushed into the living room where Sam was still at his laptop. She placed Lavender in Sam's arms and intercepted his laptop, doing a quick search for Kevin Tran on social media. "His high school girlfriend," she said triumphantly to a very confused Sam, and Dean who had just appeared in the doorway, "goes to college there."

"That's thin." Dean said.

"It's the best lead we got."

"We?" Dean challenged her. She smiled sheepishly.

"You were right. He was our responsibility. So, let's find him. Okay?"

Beatrice loaded a handful of weapons and placed them in the trunk of the car while Dean strapped Lavender into her car seat. He'd struggled to bond with her at first due to his anger at her parents, but had discovered he was a real natural with her. And Lavender seemed to love her uncle already. "Hey," Sam called from the front of the Impala. He tossed the key's back to Dean as he shut the back door where Lavender was sitting.

"Well, no visibly signs of douchery, I'll give you that," Dean mumbled, and got into the driver's seat the same time the dog sat next to him, between where Sam and Beatrice usually sat. "Uh, no."

"What?" Beatrice asked, getting in the back, "that's her seat."

"_Her_?"

"Maple. She's our dog. Where we go, she goes. That's not up for discussion."

Dean groaned. "In the _car_?"

"Not up for discussion," she repeated.

Beatrice straightened up from placing Lavender in the travel cot for her nap so see Dean sitting on the edge of the bed, visibly tense and uneasy. "You okay?" She asked, the same time Sam came out of the bathroom and leaned on the door frame, equally concerned for his older brother's well-being after his time in Purgatory.

"Yeah." Dean said quickly, even though it was clearly untrue, "hey, what do you say we blow this joint and hit the road?"

Sam and Beatrice exchanged a glance. "Now?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Dean nodded, "Kevin's not getting anymore found."

"The kid survived a year without us," Sam reminded him, "he'll be okay for another twelve hours. We just put Lavender down for her nap and, besides, when's the last time you slept?"

"Hm."

"What?"

"Nothing. Is that uh, that how you rationalised taking a year off? 'People will be okay?'"

Beatrice sighed. "People _were_ okay, Dean. You're okay. Look, we did what we promised we'd do. We moved on. We lived our lives!"

Dean laughed bitterly, "yeah, no. I'm getting that."

"Look," she sat down on the bed next to him, "it wasn't like we were just... oblivious. We read the paper every day. We saw the weird stories, the kind of stuff we used to chase."

"And you said... what? 'Not my problem?'"

"Yes," she nodded, "and you know what? The world went on."

"People died, Beatrice."

"People will always die, Dean. Or maybe another hunter took care of it. I don't know. But the point is, for the first time, I realised that it wasn't only up to us to stop it. Look, I know this is going to sound crazy to you. I don't need you to understand. But you need to know, we didn't just... drop out. We found something! A month after you and Cas disappeared, we got married. We have a baby, a dog, a house. Hell, we have jobs. Real jobs! I was the assistant manager in a _pet store_."

Dean groaned. "How did this happen?"

Beatrice looked over at Maple who was sleeping at the foot of Lavender's crib. "We hit a dog."

"The rules are simple," Dean grumbled, and he glared over at the sleeping Golden Retriever like she was a fierce enemy, "you don't take a joint from a guy named Don, and there's no dogs in the car!"

"Alright," Sam sighed, "what about you?"

"What _about _me?"

"Look at you. You've still got that look. You're shaky. You're on edge. What was it like?"

Dean scoffed, "you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try us."

"It was bloody. Messy. Thirty one flavours of bottom dwelling nasties. Hell, most days it felt like three hundred and sixty degree combat. But there was something about being there." He paused, looking up at them, "it felt... pure."

"The last time I saw Kevin was like... a year ago." Channing said. She looked uncomfortable in the presence of Beatrice and Dean, posed as FBI agents, though Beatrice wasn't sure if she knew who they were. Across the dorm room, a girl was at her laptop, pretending to be engrossed in work but everyone knew she was listening carefully to the conversation.

"When we disappeared?" Beatrice asked. Channing nodded.

"Mm-hmm. He stole his mother's car because he thought he was on a mission from God or something. It was crazy."

The girl at the computer whipped around in her seat to face them with an excited grin, "my friend Adm, who got addicted to Adderall but got a perfs on his SATs, so it was totally worth it... same thing."

Channing rolled her eyes, "shut up."

"Serious. Mission from God."

"Look, Channing," Beatrice sighed, "we know Kevin was here-"

"No he wasn't." Channing shrugged.

"-and we understand if you're trying to protect him. But nobody can protect Kevin better than we can."

Channing laughed. "I hate Kevin. I wouldn't protect him."

"I thought you two had a thing."

"Yeah," she nodded, "when he was going to Princeton."

"Wow," Dean laughed, "just like that?"

"Mm-hmm."

"So why would Kevin come sniffing around here if not to see her?" Dean asked Beatrice, who shrugged and closed John's journal, slipping it back into her rucksack.

"No idea. Maybe we should split up, ask around, see if anybody's seen him?"

Sam approached the table. Lavender was strapped to his chest in a sling, he had one hand holding Maple's lead, and his other hand carried a tray of food which he set down on the table and handed out. The biggest portion went to Dean. "Sweet mother of God," Dean gasped, looking at the burger in front of him, "it's for me? Seriously?"

Sam smiled at him and sat beside Beatrice. "Check this out, so I went through campus security archives around the time Kevin should have been here. Anyone look familiar?" He turned the laptop around to show Dean, who was much too invested in his burger to pay any attention to the matter at hand. "Dude," Sam smiled, "it's a burger."

"It's a treasure," Dean corrected him, "alright, so, what? Kevin comes all the way to campus and doesn't see his girlfriend?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted, "but I went to the computer lab and found the computer he was on."

"And?" Dean pressed.

"And I found the website he was visiting, found his account username, hacked into the website, found when else this username logged in, and then I reverse tracked the IP address back to the original user, Kevin, who has apparently been using the same wireless router for the past two months." Sam said with a grin. Dean stared at him blankly.

"That is spectacular work," he agreed, then said, "any chance I can get that in English?"

"Yeah. I think he's in Iowa, at a coffee shop."

Beatrice looked up at the church, eyebrows raised. "A church?" She raised an eyebrow and looked over at Sam who looked equally clueless. "You sure this is right?"

"Barista at the coffee shop swears he's seen Kevin ducking in here for the past few months."

"Right." Beatrice opened the car door and allowed Maple to jump into her seat at the front. "Maple, stay." The dog looked at her, then obediently jumped into the front and turned to the church door. "Are you sure Dean didn't mind babysitting?" She asked Sam.

"He seemed pretty excited about being able to bond with her." He shrugged, "we couldn't have brought her. We'd have only freaked Kevin out. And besides, this is our mess to clean up." He went up to the door and tried the door, then knocked loudly. "Kevin, it's Sam and Beatrice Winchester. Open up."

He looked at Beatrice and shrugged again. She sighed and held up her hands, blowing the door off its hinges. She'd almost forgotten about the rush she got from using her powers. The second she went in, Borax sprayed her directly in the face from a water gun wielded by Kevin. "Stop! Stop, not Leviathans. It's us!"

Kevin lowered the gun. Sam came in and closed the door behind him. "What the hell happened to you guys?"

"Cliff notes?" Sam said, "Dean went to Purgatory. We hit a dog."

"For real?" Kevin said. Sam nodded. "You want some towels?"

He locked the door again and then led the pair of them into some kind of bunker. The room was painted from the ceiling to the floor with every kind of protective symbol. Beatrice looked around in awe. It was some pretty advanced stuff. "Who taught you all this?" She asked Kevin who smiled modestly.

"I guess... God."

"_God_ taught you how to trap demons?"

"Technically. Yeah."

"Wait, wait, hold on," Sam interrupted eyeing Kevin with what appeared to be a little bit of suspicion, "Crowley kidnapped you. We saw that. But then you left a message saying you escaped. _How_?"

Kevin sighed and sat down, holding his head in his hands. "First, he took me to a warehouse. There was a tablet there, like the last one. And... the other girl was there too. The nurse. Fred."

"Wait." Beatrice sat down beside Kevin. "There's another tablet? So another Word of God?"

"Yes."

"And... what was Fred doing there?"

Kevin shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. I just became a Prophet, like, a year ago."

"Alright," Beatrice sighed. She could only hope that Fred was still herself, and not a demon. And that was if she was even still alive. "Well, did this tablet have a name?"

"Demons." Kevin nodded. Beatrice raised an eyebrow.

"What about demons?"

"As far as I could tell? Everything. And... Hell Gates."

"What about Hell Gates?" Sam pressed.

"There's one in Wisconsin," Kevin said, "the tablet told me how to open it. There were ingredients for a spell. So I gathered them. And... I did it." He looked away from them, biting his lip. Beatrice stared at him, horrified.

"You showed the king of Hell how to open a Hell Gate? So that all the demons in Hell could come out all at the same time?" She demanded, getting angrily to her feet. Kevin looked at her, terrified.

"What? No!" A smile came onto Kevin's face, "I told Crowley I was opening a Hell Gate, but I was reading from another chapter." His smile grew sly and he couldn't help but grin, "how to destroy demons."

Beatrice laughed. "You son of a bitch. Wait, Kevin, where's the tablet now?"

"Safe."

"Safe _where_?"

"Hey, as long as it's safe, okay?" Sam said, "were you able to read anything else off the tablet before you stashed it?"

"Only the stuff about closing the gates of Hell. Forever." Kevin nodded. Beatrice almost choked.

"Come again?"

"Banish all demons off the face of the Earth. Lock them away forever. That... that could be important. Right?"

"Closing the gates of Hell forever?" Beatrice laughed breathlessly, "yeah. Yeah, that could be important."

Beatrice followed Sam out of the church. The two of them were silent, thinking hard about what the hell they were going to do. "Okay," Beatrice said carefully, "if this kid is right, he's sitting on a bombshell. He _is_the bombshell." Sam seemed to hesitate at her words and she noticed, looking at him cautiously, "what?"

"That. I mean, there's noway that Kevin's getting out of this intact, is there?"

"Well, he's doing pretty well for himself so far," Beatrice reminded him.

"Yeah. He got out."

"And now he's in it. Whether he likes it or not." Beatrice sighed, "I don't like this. I really don't, but... we have an opportunity to wipe the slate clean. We take Kevin to the tablet, he tells us the spell, we send every demon back to Hell, forever. Every single bastard that destroyed our lives, killed my sister, killed your mother. And yet, you don't seem sure."

Sam didn't say anything. He went back into the church and Beatrice followed him, visibly anxious. "Kevin," Sam said, sitting in a pew by Kevin who smiled at him, "we uh, we owe you an apology. Look, when you disappeared and Dean disappeared, I needed to clear my head. And Bea did too. And... I'm thinking maybe you were one of the pieces that I should have been there to pick up."

Kevin was quiet for a moment before he answered. "You've been a hunter since you were a kid, right?"

"Yeah. Mostly."

"Ever since I realised I was a prophet, it's just hard to believe this is actually my life."

"Yeah," Sam nodded, "it sucks right now. I know that. It might suck for a lot longer, but... trust me on this, it gets better."

Kevin grinned, "you know I'm not gay. Right?"

Beatrice laughed. "If we can do this, get the tablet, get you everything you need to close the gates of Hell, there's a world out there where nobody; not Crowley, no demon, is chasing you anymore."

"I guess I just don't see how I get from here to there." Kevin admitted. Beatrice smiled sadly at him.

"I used to not be able to see it either. But there is a way."

"Just... give me five minutes." Kevin turned to go, but the floorboards started to shake and the three of them froze. "What is that?" Kevin panicked, grabbing a hold of the pew to steady himself. "An earthquake?"

"We've got company." Beatrice warned them. The doors to the church flew open and two demons Beatrice didn't recognise entered. Both of them were carrying weapons even though they really didn't need them.

"Sam and Beatrice Winchester," the first demon grinned. "Back from the unknown. You look well."

"Wish I could say the same for you," Beatrice snapped.

The pair of demons rushed into the church towards them. Kevin squirted holy water at them from a large squeeze bottle, and Beatrice threw one of them back and impaled him on a broken pew, giving her time to blow his head up. She'd also forgotten how satisfying it was blowing up the heads of demons.

She spotted Sam fighting with the other demon, struggling a little, and just as she killed it, the doors opened again and Crowley came in. He was followed by Channing, who was dragging a struggling Fred behind her. Beatrice froze. "Hello, Winchesters." Crowley greeted them. His tone was much too casual and Beatrice was infuriated.

"Let Channing go!" Kevin cried.

"That's not Channing, Kevin," Beatrice tried to tell him, "not anymore."

Crowley gasped in fake horror. "What an awful thing to say to the boy. Of course it's Channing. Kev, last time we danced, you stole my tablet and killed my men. Tell you what. Come with me now, bygones. And I'll let the girl go back to... what's-the-point U."

"He's lying!" Beatrice insisted, "you won't get Channing back. She's probably dead already."

Crowley sighed. "Will you please stop saying that? Let the girl speak."

He clicked his fingers and the human gaze returned to Channing's face. She dropped Fred, who tried to rush forward towards Sam and Beatrice, but Crowley grabbed and restrained her before she could. "Kevin?" Channing said, visibly distressed and confused. Kevin's eyes widened and he took a step forward like he was going to make for her.

"Channing?"

"What's going on?"

"There's a demon in you, and you're going to your safety school."

"_What_?"

"But it's gonna be okay." Kevin tried to assure her. Crowley rolled his eyes and clicked his fingers. Channing's eyes flashed black and the panicked look faded from her face. "No, no, wait!" Kevin pleaded. He slumped back, defeated and mumbled, "okay. I'll do it."

"Kevin..." Sam looked at him, horrified. Kevin ignored him.

"Myself for the girl. _Both_of them. But this ends, alright? No fighting, no nothing. It ends."

"I can't let you do that," Beatrice started but Kevin rounded on her next.

"Or what? You'll kill me?" He turned back to Crowley, "I'll grab my stuff."

He left the church to return to the bunker. Crowley smiled at them, but despite the deal, he didn't release Fred, who struggled violently and screamed expletives behind the tape covering her mouth. "Chin up," Crowley told them, "I'm a professional."

"This isn't over, Crowley," Beatrice threatened him.

"Really, Beatrice? Who writes your stuff? A marshmallow? Come on, Kevin. Chop chop. Kevin?" He pushed Fred towards Channing and started heading towards the bunker but Sam threatened him with a knife, which burned hot in his hands under Crowley's gaze and he was forced to drop it with a yelp. "Kevin!" Crowley yelled again.

He pushed past Sam and Beatrice, followed by Channing and Fred. He opened the door to the bunker. Kevin was stood in the doorway, holding a chord. He grinned, and pulled it, and a bucketful of holy water dropped on Crowley, Channing and Fred, soaking them. As Channing howled in pain Fred managed to free herself. Kevin grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the church alongside Sam and Beatrice towards the Impala, where Maple was in the front seat, barking loudly.

Fred and Kevin dived into the backseat while Beatrice and Sam got in the front on either side of Maple. Fred tore the tape from her mouth and in the rear view mirror, Beatrice could see how truly awful she looked. She didn't like to think about what tortures she'd endured during her time with Crowley. "What the hell is going on?" She cried.

"We'll explain later!" Sam said, "Beatrice, drive!"

Beatrice sped away from the church just in time to see Channing's neck break, and Crowley disappear.

As the sun rose, the Impala pulled up outside a gas station. Fred and Kevin were silent the entire journey while Sam quietly explained everything that had happened. Fred seemed to be coming to terms with the new situation, but Kevin was still quiet, staring blankly ahead of him. "Kevin?" Sam said, "how you holding up?"

"Awesome," Kevin snapped, "the king of Hell just snapped my girlfriend's neck. How about you?"

Beatrice and Sam exchanged a glance. "Alright, listen to me. I'm sorry about your girlfriend, okay? I am. But the sooner you get this, the better. You're in it now, whether you like it or not. That means you've got to do what you've got to do."

"Where's Castiel?" Fred said quietly. Beatrice turned back to face her.

"What?"

"You said Dean came back. But... but where's Cas?"

"Cas... never came back." Beatrice admitted, "I'm sorry, Freddy."

Fred hung her head, fighting tears. "Oh."

Fred didn't often get to drive the Impala. But she hadn't been doing well, and Dean knew it. And he'd do anything to cheer her up. so he allowed her to go on a drive, permitting she was careful. Fred was definitely not careful. She took to the back roads, singing along loudly to the Alanis Morissette song playing over the radio.

There was a man walking on the side of the road, but she ignored him until she drove past and caught his face in the rear view mirror. _Castiel_. Fred slammed on the breaks. He was still walking behind the car, bedraggled and dirty, but definitely her Cas. She reversed, but when the car caught up with him, he was gone. She froze. Grief welled up in her chest to an uncontrollable level and she screamed in frustration, slamming her fists into the steering wheel.

Fred pulled up at Rufus' cabin an hour or so later. She went inside quietly, hoping to go to her room unnoticed but Sam caught her. He was pacing the room, rocking Lavender and trying to stop her crying. "Hey," he smiled at Fred over the noise and she did her best to smile back but Fred knew he saw right through her. "You look like you've seen... well, I was gonna say 'you look like you've seen a ghost', but you'd probably be stoked. Are you okay?"

Fred hesitated, then said, "yeah. I'm cool. What's up?"

"Well, this kid went missing from a preschool." Sam said, turning the laptop on the table around the show Fred, and Dean who had just come in behind them from the kitchen carrying a bottle of beer and a bag of chips.

"That sucks," he said through a mouthful of potato, "and?"

"And at the same time he vanished, a surprise tornado hit, lasted maybe twenty seconds, then uh, shazam! Back to perfect weather." Sam said. Lavender wailed even louder in his arms and he groaned, starting to rock her again as he got back to his feet, "I fed you, I changed you, I don't know what you want."

"Where's Beatrice?" Fred asked. Sam sighed.

"She's having a nap. I told her I'd take care of Lav for a while, let her get a little rest."

"Ahh, the life of a young parent," Dean teased with a grin, opening his beer on the edge of the table. "Alright, so what else is going on with this case?" He asked, taking a long drink.

"Well, similar wackiness has happened over the past few weeks in other places. Uh, Tulsa, a bus driver vanishes and a river gets overrun with frogs. New Mexico, a mailman disappears, the Earth splits open."

"Alright," Fred said and stole a chip from Dean, "so uh, you thinking demons?"

"Yeah, possibly, but I mean, this stuff was major. These folks have nothing in common. No religious affiliations, different hometowns, all ages... why would demons want them?"

"Why do demons want anything?" Fred shrugged. "So, we on this?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded. Dean grinned and went back into the kitchen, probably to get another beer to celebrate a new case. Fred sunk into a chair at the table, holding her chin in her hands. She forgot Sam was watching her. "You still haven't told us." He said softly. Fred looked at him with a frown, not completely understanding.

"What?"

"You haven't told us what Crowley did. Why you were there in the first place or.. or where you went when you took off." Sam looked at her, "Beatrice and I could have helped you. Why didn't you tell us?"

"You had other things to worry about." Fred mumbled. "I had to find a way to get Castiel back alone. You were happy. It wasn't up to me to take that away." She sighed, finishing Dean's beer that he'd left on the table. "At first I tried to go home. I went back to New Orleans. But they were waiting for me there and before I could even begin my search, they took me to Crowley. Kevin was already there, but they didn't torture him. They kept us completely separate. While he had to decipher the tablet, I was tortured to try and get more information. I told them I didn't know anything. They didn't believe me. They thought Castiel had told me everything about the tablet, more than Kevin or anyone knew. But he didn't, Castiel didn't know anything anyway. But they didn't believe me. So they tortured me psychologically and physically, making me think it was Castiel doing it."

"Fred, that's... that's awful." Sam said quietly. He didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't that. What she revealed to him chilled him, and it was no surprise she hadn't been herself.

Fred knocked on the door. She and Dean had agreed to conduct the interview so Beatrice and Fred could spend a little bit more time trying to soothe their daughter, who just wouldn't stop crying no matter what they did. The door opened, and a young woman peered around. She didn't look to be much older than Fred herself.

"Mrs Hagar?" Fred said softly, "Agents Roth and Malloy. We want to speak to you about Aaron Webber's abduction."

Mrs Hagar sighed deeply, "like I told the police, one minute I was taking Aaron to get cleaned up, and the next minute, I woke up in a park three blocks away."

"And you have no idea what happened?"

"No. He was just gone."

"Can you think of any reason why somebody would want to harm him? Um, any enemies?" Dean asked. Mrs Hagar stared at him as though he'd grown a third head. It did seem like a ridiculous question the more Fred thought about it.

"Enemies? He's five." Mrs Hagar reminded him. Fred picked up her phone and mumbled the exorcism quietly into the mouthpiece. Now, Mrs Hagar stared at her. "Excuse me?"

"It's, uh, a code for your own safety so you can't reveal anything under enhanced interrogation," Dean said quickly, "now, when you woke up on the floor, were there any signs of struggle?"

"No."

"Smell like sulphur?" Fred asked.

"How did you know that?"

"Lucky guess. Thanks for your time."

She closed the door and the two went down the stairs towards the Impala. "No reaction to the exorcism," Fred pointed out. Dean nodded and sighed, even more confused than he was before.

"Yeah, not possessed at the moment. But I'm willing to get a demon got a hold of Aaron Webber"

Everyone was asleep. Even Lavender had quietened down enough to allow her parents a few hours of sleep. Fred was the only one awake, sitting at the table and flicking through a book. Lightening flashed outside, startling her, and she looked up in time to see the silhouette of Castiel in the window.

Fred jumped to her feet and sprinted to the window but when she reached the glass, he had gone. "Fred?" Behind her, Beatrice sat up in bed and looked at her across the room, "what's going on? Are you alright?"

"I... I don't know," Fred stammered, "I just saw something."

"You saw... what?"

"Cas."

"Cas?" Beatrice got up and joined her at the window. "Where?"

"Right there! And.. and.. and earlier, on the road. I feel like I'm seeing him."

"That's not possible," Beatrice reminded her gently. She'd adopted the motherly tone she often used, something Fred had noticed since Lavender was born. "I mean, you heard Dean. He made it out and Cas didn't. Right?"

"I know that!" Fred said angrily and stepped away from the window. "But I know what I saw."

Beatrice hesitated. "Sam told me about what Crowley did to you."

Fred glared at her. "So?"

"So what if this is what's left over?"

"No." Fred snapped. "No, it isn't. My Cas is out there. And I'm going to find him."

"Hey, so it's not just Americans who are vanishing," Dean called from the motel room. Fred was in the bathroom washing her face while Sam and Beatrice went to the store. They had been left in charge of Lavender. "Uh, this guy, Luigi Ponzi disappeared walking between two subway cars in Rome. And right above the ground, there was a freak hail storm."

"Huh," Fred said, leaning over the sink to rinse the soap from her face. "So, we going to Rome? Wouldn't be too shabby." She straightened up, and screamed. In the reflection behind her, was Castiel. She turned around. He was just as bedraggled as she remembered from the road, his face scruffy with a beard and smudged with dirt.

"Hello, Winifred."

Fred stared at him. She couldn't work out if this was another hallucination, but when he wrapped his arms around her, it was real. It was familiar. It was _safe_. She buried her face in his chest and clung to him, wrapping her arms tightly around his middle. "Hi, Cas," she whispered, and he held her a little bit tighter.

Dean came into the bathroom behind them. His eyes widened at the sight of the angel he thought he had left behind. When Cas and Fred parted, Dean motioned for them to follow him out to the motel room. Castiel sat at the table. Dean stood a way away, watching him carefully. "Unbelievable, man," he mumbled, "I-I cannot believe it. You're actually here."

"Yeah, I've been trying to reach out, but for whatever reason, I wasn't at full power. So I couldn't connect with any of you." He said softly. Fred sat opposite him and took the angel's hand. He squeezed it tightly.

"That must've been why you kept seeing him," Dean said to Fred, "I mean, you think?"

"Yeah." Fred nodded.

"I got to be honest," Dean went on, "I'm thinking, how the hell did you make it out? I mean, I was there. I know that place. I know how we had to scratch and claw and kill and bleed to find that portal and make it through, and it almost finished me. So uh, so how exactly are you sitting here with us right now?"

"Dean, everything you just said is completely true. And that's the strange part, I-I have no idea. I remember endlessly running and hiding from Leviathan, and then I was on the side of the road in Illinois. And... that was it."

"And that... that was it?"

"Yes." Castiel confirmed. Across the room in the travel crib, Lavender started to scream again. It felt like she'd been crying non stop for days on end. Castiel looked to the crib and went over before the others, gently lifting Lavender out. The second he touched her, her crying ceased and she looked up at him, wide eyed. "This must be little Lavender," he said softly, "it's nice to finally meet the little girl I've been protecting from afar for so long." He held his finger out to Lavender and she gripped it, and she smiled.

"Dean?" Fred said softly. She could hear the running water in the bathroom and knew Castiel wouldn't be able to hear them but she lowered her voice anyway. He looked up at her, eyebrows raised.

"Huh?"

"You alright?"

"You do see something severely wrong here, right? Freddy, I remember every second of leaving that place. I mean, I remember the heat, the stink, the pain, the fear... I have that whole ugly mess," he paused to tap the side of his head, "right here, and he says he has no idea how he got out?" He took a drink of beer and shook his head, "I'm just not buying it."

"So, what?" Fred challenged him, "you think he's lying?"

"I'm_saying_ something else happened." Dean corrected her, "I saw the shape that he was in. I mean, there was no way he was fighting his ass out alone. No way."

"Alright. So who, or what, got him out?"

"Exactly."

The bathroom door opened and Castiel wandered out. He was freshly shaven and his clothes and skin were clean. "Better?" He asked, opening his arms to invite their opinion. Fred's face lit up.

"Better."

Fred and Castiel moved to the sofa and she leaned into his embrace, burying her face in his shoulder. The motel door opened and Beatrice and Sam returned from the store. When they saw Castiel, they froze. "So, uh... what's the latest?" Beatrice asked, eyeing the angel suspiciously. Dean smiled sheepishly.

"Well, Cas is back," he said with the tiniest of sheepish smiles, "but in regards to the case? The latest is... nothing. It's like it all stopped. No freak disappearances linked to any freak natural events."

"How many have we got?" Beatrice asked, taking Lavender out of the crib. She was pleased to see her baby looked much happier, and wondered if it had anything to do with Castiel. "Seven?"

"Yeah," Fred said from the sofa, her words muffled by Castiel's shoulder, "uh, Luigi, Justin, Aaron, Maria-"

"Maria, Dennis, Krista, Sven." Castiel finished for her. Everyone stared at him.

"Wait, Cas, how did you know those are the names?" Sam asked.

"Well, they're prophets," he said like it was obvious.

"Prophets?" Beatrice said.

"Yeah. Angels instinctively know the names of every prophet, past, present, and future."

"So, this list is the name of everyone one of them that exists?"

"Yes," Castiel confirmed with a small nod, "until the next generation is born. Plus Kevin Tran of course. The other seven are future prophets, since only one can exist at a time."

"So how is Kevin a prophet if Chuck is a prophet?" Sam asked.

"I'm not sure what happened to Chuck," Castiel admitted, "but he must be dead."

"So the next one comes off the bench if Kevin goes down?" Dean clarified and Castiel nodded.

"Exactly. And they have no idea who they are, of course."

"Crowley." Beatrice realised, "insurance. Boy, he's getting desperate."

"Explains all the weird phenomena," Sam agreed with a heavy sigh, rubbing his forehead like he was stressed, "lower level demons nabbing heavy duty cargo. The vessels of God's Word. Boom."

"I get the feeling something's going on." Castiel mused.

Sam's phone rang and he answered it quickly. "Hello? Mrs Tran? Well, where the hell have you... what? We're on our way." He hung up and turned to the others. "We need to go. Crowley's got Kevin," he rushed to the door, but stopped and smiled weakly at the angel, "oh, and Cas, it's good to see you."

The Impala was silent. The car was full. Dean, Sam and Beatrice were squished into the front, Maple sitting patiently on Beatrice's knee, and Fred, Castiel and Lavender were sitting in the back. "Where the hell is she?" Dean mumbled, looking at his watch and then a few cars that drove past their own.

"She'll be here," Sam assured him, "uh, mile marker ninety six was kind of the halfway point."

Dean sighed, the silence becoming unbearable. "Cas, can I talk to you outside?"

He got out of the Impala and Castiel followed him. They moved further away from the cars to talk. "Do you think he's still protecting Lavender?" Beatrice asked, reaching behind into the car seat and letting Lavender grasp her hand. The little girl giggled. Sam turned around in his seat to face the baby as well and he nodded.

"I do. Bea, since Fred started seeing Castiel, she hasn't stopped crying. It was like she _knew_."

"I just can't believe we're back in this," she sighed, "I feel like every time I step out of the door I'm putting my baby in danger, like I'm leaving her exposed to evil."

"Nothing's going to happen to her, Bea," Sam assured her. He squeezed Beatrice's thigh a little to comfort her. "She doesn't just have Castiel watching her back. She has _us_. She has Dean. She has Fred. She's a Winchester, right? And what do Winchesters do?" He prompted, looking at her intently. Beatrice smirked at him.

"Sacrifice themselves for 'the greater good?'" She teased. Sam smiled.

"That too, but we look out for each other. We protect each other. Lavender is safe, I promise."

"We're not going to let anything happen to her, Bea," Fred added, "no matter what, I know all of us would give our lives to protect that little girl. I know I would. I'd do anything for her."

Beatrice wished she could believe them. A second car pulled up beside the Impala. Beatrice and Fred got out while Sam waited in the car with Lavender and Maple. "You can do this, can't you?" Mrs Tran asked them in a frantic and anxious voice as soon as she got out of her car, "you can get him back?"

"How did Crowley find you?" Dean asked, ignoring her question despite his better judgement.

"Oh, I hired a witch," she said casually, "and she ratted us out."

Beatrice stared at her. "Mrs Tran, with all due respect, I know better than anyone how slippery witches can be. I thought I made that clear to you before. So why the hell did you hire a witch?"

"To make demon bombs, of course," she said casually. "These are Kevin's notes." She handed a notebook to Beatrice which she flicked through fairly casually. She looked up at Mrs Tran, eyebrows raised.

"You have any idea where Crowley took him?"

"No," Mrs Tran admitted, "but..." she trailed off, opening the trunk of her car, "...this guy might." In the car, bound and gagged underneath a devil's trap painted on the trunk, was a demon. He glared at them and struggled against his binds but Mrs Tran had done an excellent job at intercepting and capturing him. It was quite impressive.

"Oh," Dean peered into the trunk at the demon, "let's talk."

The two cars approached the factory. Fred had volunteered to ride in Mrs Tran's car with her, but when the older woman tried to get out, Fred handcuffed her to the steering wheel. "Sorry, Mrs Tran!" She said apologetically. Mrs Tran yelped, tugging at the handcuffs but they refused to come free. She looked at Fred, enraged.

"My son is in there!"

"Which means Crowley already has leverage. He doesn't need another hostage."

Dean stabbed the demon in her trunk and the group approached the factory. Maple jumped into the passenger seat of Mrs Tran's car and licked her face excitedly. Mrs Tran groaned. "Oh, come on!"

Beatrice, with Lavender wrapped in a sling around her chest, blew open the door and they went into the factory. "Bea," Dean said, "you and Sam try and find the hostages. We'll get Kevin."

"Got it." She turned around the corner, Sam following behind, but Dean grabbed her arm.

"And Bea? Be careful."

Beatrice grinned. "Always."

She and Sam disappeared to the left while Dean, Fred and Castiel headed down the right corridor. Sam walked close to Beatrice, one hand on the small of her back while the other clutched the demon bomb tightly. They turned a corner, and four demons immediately blocked their path. "Winchesters," they snarled.

Sam grinned, "looks like you guys got us." He took out one of Kevin's demon bombs and dropped it at the demons' feet. The glass shattered, and a bright light flared. When it faded, the demons were gone. He and Beatrice rushed down the corridor towards a door, which Beatrice blew open. There was a large, octagonal table in the middle of the room which was splashed with fresh blood. "Oh, no," Sam mumbled. The prophets started to emerge from under the table. The little boy, Aaron, peeped out from behind a pillar.

"Hey," Beatrice said softly, holding up her hands to show they meant no harm, "we're here to help."

Castiel, Dean and Fred crept through the winding corridors. Fred heard footsteps behind her and whipped around, readying herself to slash out with the demon killing knife but the demon was too fast and threw her against the wall. She groaned in pain, and as Dean attempted to attack, it threw him back too.

The demon reached out to Castiel, but the angel was quicker and rested his hand on the demon's forehead, smiting him. When he collapsed, Castiel staggered back, leaning against a wall for support. Dean stood and helped Fred up, and they both approached Castiel, visibly concerned, "what the hell's going on?" Dean demanded, "you're not all the way back, are you?"

Castiel didn't answer.

They approached the door at the end of the corridor and Fred kneeled down to pick the lock, but it wouldn't click. "It's not working!" She announced, frustrated. Castiel placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Winifred, I'm going in."

"Cas, no! You're not strong enough." She tried to protest, but he disappeared, presumably into the room with Crowley and Kevin. "Dammit, Cas!" Fred yelled, slamming her fist into the wall.

"Freddy, focus! We have to get in there!" Dean said, encouraging her to carry on. She knew he was right. She started fiddling with the lock again, gritting her teeth in determination. She wasn't going to lose Castiel, not again. Losing him again would kill her. The lock clicked around her knife and the door burst open.

Crowley was gone. Kevin was holding half of the tablet which was now destroyed, and Castiel was on the floor. Fred gasped, rushing to his side. "What happened?" She demanded, looking up at Kevin.

"There was this light, and... and then he just... collapsed!"

Fred looked down at Castiel, terrified. He was unconscious, but he was alive.

Sam, Beatrice and Dean were talking to Kevin and Mrs Tran. Fred started towards them, but she saw Castiel stood by the Impala, absently petting Maple. He had an unreadable expression on his face. Fred went over to him, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "You could have gotten yourself killed back there," she berated him.

"Well, I didn't get killed. And it worked."

"And if it didn't?"

"It would have been my problem."

"Well, that's not the way I see it." She said angrily. "I just got you back, Cas."

Castiel started to realise what this was about. He rested his hand lightly on her cheek. "Not everything is your responsibility. Getting me out of Purgatory wasn't your responsibility." He told her softly. Fred let out a quiet sob. "I know you looked for me, Winifred. And I know what happened to you. Beatrice and Sam told me. Why didn't you?"

"I couldn't!" She cried. "I felt weak. I wanted to rescue you, _both_ of you, but on my own I was useless. I was captured, and tortured for a whole year. I couldn't even escape. How pathetic is that? I should have saved you."

Castiel hesitated. "Let me show you something"

He placed two fingers to her forehead and she closed her eyes. In her mind, she saw Dean halfway through a portal, reaching out for Castiel, but Cas let go. The angel pulled back his hand and Fred looked up at him, stunned. "I pulled away. Nothing you, or Dean, or _anyone_ could have done would have saved me. Because I didn't want to be saved."

"What are you talking about, Cas?"

"It's where I belonged," he smiled sadly at her, "I needed to do penance. After all the things I did on Earth and in Heaven, I didn't deserve to be out. And I saw that clearly when I was there. I planned to stay all along. I didn't know how to tell you. You can't save everyone, my love," he paused to wipe the tears that fell from her face, "though, you try."

When Beatrice came out of the gas station, Dean immediately threw his phone at her. She caught it, bewildered, and held it to her ear. "Mrs Tran! Yeah, hi uh... yeah... yep... yes... okay. Beatrice hung up and threw the phone back at Dean. "What's going on in Tran land?" She asked, still dazed from the bizarre conversation.

"Well, Garth finally got them to his houseboat, but Kevin's having a lot of trouble reading their half of the tablet. So far, bits and pieces. Nothing about boarding up Hell." He sighed. Beatrice raised an eyebrow.

"Garth has a safe houseboat?"

"Dude, I don't even ask questions anymore." He shrugged.

Beatrice moved around to the front of the car. Castiel was flicking through a newspaper, leaning against the Impala, while Fred sat in the front seat, half leaning out of the open window as she picked through a bag of assorted gummy candy. "What's the word, Cas?" Beatrice asked, sitting on the hood beside him.

Cas looked up at her. "It's a shortened version of my name."

Beatrice stared at Castiel. "Yes, it is," Beatrice agreed, but shook her head and went on, ignoring the urge to laugh, "I meant what's the word on the The Word? Any tablet chatter on angel radio?"

"Oh, I couldn't say," Castiel replied casually, "I turned that off."

"You can do that?" Fred asked through the window.

"Yeah, it's a simple matter of blocking out certain subsonic frequencies. I could draw you a diagram if you want." He offered. The girls exchanged a second glance. Beatrice shook her head for the both of them.

"No, that's.. we're good. Why'd you flip the switch?" She asked.

"Because it's a direct link to Heaven. And I don't want anything to do with that place. Not anymore."

"So... what now? Move to Vermont, open up a charming B and B?"

"No." Castiel replied almost immediately. "I still want... I still _need_ to help people. So, I'm gonna become a hunter."

"Really?" Fred looked genuinely surprised. Beatrice thought that was the sort of thing he would share with Fred but then, she was so used to Castiel disappearing, it was no wonder she was shocked at the revelation.

"Yeah. I could be your third wheel," he said proudly, motioning to the two girls.

"You know that's not a good thing, right?" Beatrice asked, eyebrows raised.

"Of course it is," Castiel said, "a third wheel adds extra grip, greater stability. I even found a case! Oklahoma City, a man's heart jumped ten feet out of his chest. It sounds like our kind of thing. Right?"

Fred smiled at her boyfriend's enthusiasm. "He's got a point."

"Excellent!" Castiel turned away and rapped the car's roof, "I'll see you there."

"Wait, Cas. Cas!" Dean said urgently, rushing over to them. He'd clearly been listening in to the conversation. Castiel stopped and looked at him, puzzled. "If you want to play cowboys and bloodsuckers, that's fine, but you're going to need to stick with us, okay? None of this zapping around, crap. Capiche?"

"Yeah," Cas nodded, "I caphiche."

"Alright then." Dean moved over to the driver's door and Fred switched with him, climbing into the back next to Lavender. Beatrice squished in the middle at the front, and allowed Maple to sit on her lap. Before Sam got in, Castiel looked wistfully at the passenger seat available next to Beatrice and Maple.

"Can I at least ride in the front seat?"

"No!" Sam smiled, shouldering past Castiel to the door.

"Coroner said his heart was ejected from his body," the detective told them. Cas and Fred looked down at the body which was still covered by the plastic sheet. Neither of them wanted to be the first to pull it back, so collectively decided to leave it up to the detective. "Got some air too," she went on, "found it in a sandbox."

"Any idea what happened, Detective?" Fred asked.

"A lot of people are thinking drugs, Agent Nash. An assload of drugs."

Castiel leaned towards Fred and whispered, "there are no narcotics in that man's system. His molecules are all wrong."

Fred nodded, taking this into account and she turned back to the detective, who seemed unconvinced with the theory herself. "But you don't think that, huh?" Fred asked. The detective shrugged.

"Never seen an eightball do_that_." She finally pulled back the sheet to reveal the body. In the man's chest, there was a gaping wound the shape of a cookie cutter heart. The pair stared at the body, neither of them quite knowing what to say. There was a moment of tense, somewhat uncomfortable, silence before Fred awkwardly said,

"wow. And uh, who called this in?"

"Friend of his named Olivia Kopple. She saw the whole thing." She covered the body again and her phone rang loudly. "Ah, crap. I have.. I have to take this. Here's everything we've got." She handed a file to Fred. "Knock yourself out."

"Thanks. Listen, you see anything weird, anything out of the box, you give us a call." She handed the detective a business card which she slipped out of her inside pocket. The detective smiled, bemused.

"Whatever you say, Scully." The detective left the morgue and closed the door behind her. Castiel got a little closer to the body, perhaps uncomfortably close, and sniffed. Fred stared at him.

"I can't sense any EMF or sulphur. Mr Freleng's arterial health is uh, excellent." He took another long sniff, "he did recently suffer from a... mild... uh... what is that? Bladder infection?"

"Cas," Fred said quietly, "stop smelling the dead guy."

"Why? I know everything about this man, so we can-"

"Do you know he was having an affair?" Fred said with a smirk.

"What?"

"Strike one, Sherlock. According to Olivia, they would meet at the park every Thursday at 12:45, walk to the Moonlight Diner, where she would always order a Caesar salad, dressing on the side. They would chat about everything, and she'd be back on the road by 1:30." She explained to a bewildered Castiel.

"You don't think she's telling the truth." Castiel replied. It wasn't a question.

"Too much detail. Sounds rehearsed," she shrugged, then added, "plus, we drove past the Moonlight Diner on the way into town. It's attached to the Moonlight Motel. Let's say that Gary here's on the prowl, but he's playing it safe because..." she trailed off and lifted Gary's hand with a grimace. There were indentations on his finger where a wedding ring had recently been. "...dude's married. Doesn't want anyone to see his ride parked out in front of a by-the-hour fleabag. So he stashed his car at the park across the street, meets Olivia there. His wife probably found out about it, and it broke her heart, so she breaks his. Guy was living a lie, and it came back to bite him in the ticker. But," she concluded triumphantly and then she turned to Castiel with a mischievous smile, to see he was already smiling at her, endeared, "nice job on the bladder infection."

"I.. I don't understand," Mrs Freleng spoke to Fred and Castiel tearfully, raising a fresh Kleenex to mop her eyes, "Gary had a heart attack. Why would the FBI..." she trailed off, looking up at them.

"The parks are government property," Fred explained, "we just have a few questions for you."

"I'll uh, I'll handle this," Castiel offered quietly, "I've done research. I can crack her." He looked so optimistic that Fred didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise. He leaned over the table where Mrs Freleng was sitting. "Now, Mrs Freleng, I don't want to bother you, I.. I really don't. But I.. I do have just one question for you." Suddenly, Castiel slammed his hands down on the table, startling both Fred and Mrs Freleng who nearly jumped out of her skin. "_Why did you kill your husband_?"

"Agent Stills!" Fred said loudly, "a word, please?"

"What?" Castiel said obliviously as he approached her, "I was being bad cop."

"No, you were being bad everything." Fred took Castiel's place at the table and sat opposite Mrs Freleng, "please, forgive my partner, he's uh, he's going through some stuff. What he was trying to ask is.. is there any way Gary might have had... secrets? Something he was hiding?" She suggested. Mrs Freleng shook her head.

"Hiding? Like what?"

There was a knock at the door and then the sound of someone letting themselves in. "Deb?" A woman's voice called. A pretty, slightly younger woman, came into the living room, carrying a casserole. Mrs Freleng broke down at the sight of her and rushed over to embrace the pretty girl in a hug.

"Olivia!"

"Olivia?" Fred hissed to Castiel, "as in mistress Olivia?"

"This is awkward," Castiel agreed.

After briefly hugging Olivia, Mrs Freleng turned back to face Castiel and Fred, but she kept her arm around Olivia. "What did you think Gary was hiding?" She stammered. Castiel pointed at Olivia.

"That he was sleeping with her."

Fred looked at Castiel, mortified, but to her surprise, Mrs Freleng said, "I know. Gary and I, we.. we had an arrangement. He was seeing Olivia, and I was spending some time with our neighbour, PJ."

"I'll uh, I'll put this in the kitchen," Olivia said awkwardly and Mrs Freleng nodded quickly.

"I'll help."

The two women rushed from the room. Fred turned to Castiel, bewildered at what exactly she just witnessed. "So, she's not a witch," Castiel concluded, looking at Fred for direction.

"Just the best wife ever," Fred sighed.

"Then what killed her husband?"

Fred and Castiel returned to the motel just as the sun set and the moon rose above Oklahoma City. Beatrice was waiting for them in the parking lot, Lavender tucked in her arms. "Hey, guys," she said warmly, "there's been a bit of a mix up with the rooms, they only had two double rooms. Me, Sam and Dean are sharing. You guys okay with your own room?"

Fred smiled back. "That's not a problem."

Castiel followed Fred through the motel to their bedroom. It was poorly furnished, but it had a bed and a mini fridge, so Fred was happy. She perched on the edge of the bed and patted he comforter beside her, inviting Castiel to sit, which he did. "I missed you," she said softly. Her voice sounded pure and innocent in the silence of the motel room.

"I missed you too, Winifred," Castiel assured her, taking her hand in his own, "when I was in Purgatory, there wasn't a day when I didn't think of you, when I thought about being back here next to you." His hand slipped from hers onto her thigh. "When I thought about kissing you, about putting you on this bed and having my way with you." His voice became husky and Fred's breath hitched. She bit her lip, looking Castiel in the eye. There was a slight smirk on his lips that drove her wild.

"Yeah?" She breathed, "what else?"

Castiel gently pushed Fred back against the bed and slid his hands up her shirt, tugging it over her head. His hands crept up her sides and around her back, and he had her arch her back so he could unclip her bra and throw it to the ground. "I thought about pinning your hands above your head," he hissed in her ear, "about attacking your neck with kisses, leaving purple bruises so everybody knows exactly who you belong to." His hand moved to her front and ghosted over her throat.

"C-Castiel..." Fred whimpered, "p-please."

"Please.. what?"

"I want you to-"

The door opened behind them. Fred cursed herself for forgetting to lock it. Dean was in the doorway, holding Lavender and looking absolutely horrified. Castiel threw his trenchcoat over Fred to preserve her modesty. "What the hell, Dean?" Fred demanded quietly, not wanting to awaken the sleeping baby.

"Uhh..." Dean looked stunned at the scene. He'd not expected this of his angel friend. "S-Sam and Beatrice asked me for some alone time. You know what? I think I'm just gonna go for a drive."

"Yeah, good idea," Fred said crossly. Dean backed out and quickly shut the door behind him.

Castiel sighed and collapsed on the bed beside Fred. "Well that was-"

"Horrific." She finished for him. She slid the trenchcoat off and rolled onto her side, trailing her finger up his stomach onto his chest, catching every button on his shirt as she went. "But I think we have some unfinished business."

The smile returned to Castiel's face. He made quick work of his shirt, shedding his trousers and pulling Fred on top of him, her thighs wrapped around his waist. "Then let's get back to it."

"Looks like suicide," Sam noticed, looking over the edge of the building into the bustling street below. On the pavement there was a chalk outline where the man had hit it. The detective nodded.

"It was. Guy left a note. He invested everything in Roman Industries and lost it all when they crashed and burned last year," she sighed, joining Sam at the edge of the building to peer out into the road at the fresh crime scene. Beatrice hung back a little, clinging to Lavender. The height was starting to make her feel dizzy and uneasy.

"So why call us?" She asked.

"Because I have two witnesses who swear that Madoff here floated in mid air for a good ten seconds, then he looked down, and splat. Not sure I buy that, but the way they're talking, it sounds something straight out of-"

"A cartoon?" Fred suggested.

The detective flashed her a strained smile. "You said you wanted strange." And then she was gone, leaving them to investigate freely. Fred sighed, leaning over the edge and scaring the life out of Castiel.

"She's right, you know." Fred mused as she returned to the safe side of the roof. "I mean, the whole heart jumping out of the guy's chest, the delayed fall... that's straight up Bugs Bunny."

"So we're looking for some sort of insect rabbit hybrid?" Castiel asked, "how do we kill it?"

"No, we don't, Cas," Fred tried to explain, "that's a character, like uh, like... Woody Woodpecker, or... Daffy Duck. They're little animated movies. The coyote chases a roadrunner, and then the anvil gets dropped on his head."

"Is it supposed to be funny?"

"No, it's hilarious."

The moment they returned to the motel that night, Fred collapsed into bed. Beatrice sat on the sofa next to Cas with Lavender sat up against her. Both Castiel and Lavender were watching the cartoon on the TV intently. Sam and Dean were busy researching. "I understand," Castiel said to Beatrice turning to face her with an understanding smile, "the bird represents God. And the coyote is man, endlessly chasing the divine, yet never able to catch him. It's... it's hilarious."

"I've got no idea what we're hunting," Dean said from the table, "maybe it's a Tulpa. Maybe it's some... some crazy God who watched too much Robot Chicken. I mean, is there a link between Heartbreak Hotel and Free Falling?"

"Not that I can find," Sam said.

"Aright, well I'm gonna call it." He looked over to Castiel, who was still sitting on the couch Dean had adopted as his bed so Beatrice and Sam could share the double. "Cas, you and Fred going back to your room or what?"

Castiel looked back at the sleeping Fred, and smiled. "I'll see you in the morning." He got up and moved over to Fred, reaching out so he could teleport the two of them to their own bed without waking her, but he stopped before he touched her, raising his fingers to his own head instead. "Something's coming across the police band."

"Wait, you can hear that?" Beatrice frowned.

"It's all waves," he shrugged, "a bank has been robbed. It sounds loony."

"Define 'loony'."

"That's loony, alright," Sam mumbled. In the middle of the bank, a one ton anvil had crushed someone, and there was a pool of blood and gore surrounding it. The detective came over to them with a haunted smile.

"Agents," she greeted them, "I was just about to give you a ring. Got to ask, do you chase the crazy, or does the crazy chase you?" The words should have been jokey, but Beatrice could tell she was genuinely unsettled by the events, and frustrated that she couldn't solve them. Beatrice felt exactly the same, and she smiled uncomfortably.

"Depends on the day. Who's the pancake?"

"Security guard. He called in reporting a robbery, but by the time we got here..."

"A robbery?" Fred questioned.

"Looks like the 'Black Hole' was trying to jimmy open a safe deposit box when Mr Rent-a-Cop found him. And, well..." she trailed off and motioned to what was left of the guard, "you know how _that_ story ends."

Castiel came over. "Black hole?"

"It's our name for a burglar that's been running us ragged," she explained, "he's a pro. No fingerprints, never any sign of forced entry... just a pair of those every time." She pointed to a pair of large black circles on the wall. "Almost like he's signing off his work. Perp's never done anything like this before, though. Obviously."

"You mind if I take a look at your files on those other break-ins?" Sam asked.

"No skin off my nose. I'm headed to the station now if you want a ride."

"Perfect."

Sam and the detective left, leaving Dean, Beatrice, Fred and Castiel alone with the body, or what was left of it. "Hey, can you lift this?" Dean asked Beatrice, motioning to the anvil. She nodded, and despite having her sleeping daughter strapped to her chest in the anvil, she telepathically lifted it away. Through the blood, a messily scrawled 'X' could be seen. "X marks the spot," Dean mumbled, "well, whoever's doing this is playing by cartoon rules."

"Animation doesn't have rules." Castiel reminded him.

"Sure it does," Dean argued, "In Toontown, a pretty girl can make your heart leap out of your chest. Anvils fall from the sky. And if you draw a door or a black hole on the wall, you can stroll right through it."

"So this is how the thief got in," Beatrice said. She placed her hand on the black circle, but it was a completely solid wall. "Then why isn't it working now?" She asked, frustrated. Dean sighed.

"I got no clue."

"John Winchester," Castiel mumbled, "beautiful handwriting." He was flicking through the journal across the room from Fred, sitting on the bed they shared. It was nice to have even more alone time, even if they were doing their separate research. Fred looked up from her laptop, watching him carefully.

"How you feeling, Cas?"

"I'm fine." He said, a little too quickly. Fred was unconvinced.

"Well, I just... I know that when Dean got home from Purgatory, it took him a few weeks to adjust."

"I'm _fine_." Castiel repeated. She could tell he was getting agitated with her constant questioning, but Fred pressed on anyway. She wasn't going to sit quietly and watch him suffer silently. She refused to do that.

"Don't get me wrong," she said, "I'm happy you're back. Finding you home was the best day of my life. It's just... this whole 'mysterious resurrection' thing... it always has one mother of a downside."

Castiel sighed and set the journal down. "So, what do you want me to do?"

"Maybe take a trip upstairs," Fred suggested.

"To Heaven?"

"Yeah. Poke around, see if the God squad can tell us how you got out."

"No," Castiel said quietly.

"Sweetpea, I hate those flying monkeys as much as you do, but-"

"Winifred! I said no!" He yelled suddenly.

It was the first time he had raised his voice to her in anger. Fred was shocked by his outburst, but she closed the laptop and sat on the bed beside him, facing him. "Alright," she said softly, taking his hands, "talk to me."

Castiel seemed to hesitate, but when Fred squeezed his hands he visibly relaxed and told her in a hushed voice, "Winifred, I... when I was... when I was bad, and I had all those _things_, the... the Leviathans, writhing inside me, I caused a lot of suffering on Earth but I _devastated _Heaven. I vaporised thousands of my own kind. And, I... I can't go back."

"Because if you do, the angels will kill you?"

"Because if I see what Heaven's become, what I... what I made of it... I'm afraid I might kill myself."

There was a knock at Fred and Castiel's door. Fred didn't get up to answer it and neither did he. She was shocked by Castiel's revelation, but was devastated to say she wasn't exactly surprised. Whoever was outside tried the lock, and came in. Fred was ready to attack, but it was only Sam and Beatrice. Fred assumed Dean would be babysitting. "Hey," Beatrice smiled, oblivious to the hurt and the tension that filled the room. "we've got something."

"Good," Castiel got up without looking at Fred, "excellent. What?"

"So, this Black Hole guy, before he tried the bank, he robbed a house across from the park where Gary blew a gasket."

"So, what?" Fred frowned, "you think the house heist and Gary's corpse are connected?"

"According to the file, they happened at pretty much the exact same time. Check this out," Sam unrolled a large map and flattened it on the bed. Fred and Castiel crowded around. Sam pointed to one of three X's marked on the page, "here's the house, and Gary died across the street here. And that building from this morning, right here. The black hole hit that, too."

"Alright," Fred nodded, accepting the theory, "what about the others?"

"Well, those are the places that stuff got stolen. But nobody got _dead,"_ Beatrice said, "Take away the graffiti, and all these look like normal smash and grabs. But I made a few phone calls, and talked to some people who are nearby, neighbours and whatnot, and they reported a whole lot of crazy." She held out a police file which Castiel took.

"Like...?" Fred prompted her.

"Like a jogger bumping his head and sprouting a four inch lump. Or a kid walking into a wall and hearing birdies. Basically, for fifty yards around each robbery, people are living in a cartoon. But it didn't last long, I mean, just five or ten minutes at each place."

"About the length of time it would take a thief to get in and out," Castiel concluded. Sam nodded.

"Exactly. But whatever power he's using, it's not targeted. It's kind of like an area of effect. I mean, picture him in a bubble of weird, and anything that touches it gets daffy."

"So this Animaniac can step through walls, can toss an anvil?" Fred said with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, but he's warping reality to do it. So if someone happens to be nearby meeting the girl of his dreams..."

"His heart makes a break for it. Okay, so smashing the rent-a-cop, that was on purpose, but the rest of them, what? Is that just collateral weird?" Fred paced the room in thought. Sam shrugged.

"Maybe."

"So we're looking for a thief."

"And the deposit box he was after," Sam agreed, "now, the house, the office, every place he's hit belonged to someone living at the Sunset Fields retirement home. So, it's worth a shot."

"Let's gear up," Beatrice said, then added with a smile, "it's wabbit season."

Castiel looked at her for a long time. "I don't think you pronounced that correctly."

Fred did not like care homes. She'd spent too much time in them as a child before her grandmother died. "Come on," Sam tried to encourage her, seeing the grimace on her face, "it's not that bad."

"You can't tell me this joint doesn't give you the heebs and or jeebs."

A smartly dressed man approached them from across the common room, an uneasy smile on his face at the appearance of a group of mismatched strangers in suits with a baby. "Hello," he said. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah." Dean held up his FBI badge, "Agent Crosby, FBI."

The man's face fell even further. "Sorry, I'm Doctor Dwight Mahoney. I run Sunset Fields."

"We need to question your residents," Castiel said firmly. Fred thought he'd made great improvements as an FBI agent since the incident at Mrs Freleng's house. If it was even possible Doctor Mahoney's face dropped even _further_. He looked back at a group of residents playing chess, visibly uncomfortable with the proposition Castiel had made.

"Of course," he said, "um, by all means, ask away. If there's anything I can do to help, let me know."

Beatrice smiled, but it was strained. "Appreciate it."

Mahoney walked away, leaving the group to assign roles and split up. Fred, Dean and Castiel approached an old lady sitting alone at a table. When they sat down with her, she beamed at Castiel. "You are so pretty, Charles," she told him softly. Castiel shifted in his seat, looking to Fred and Dean for help, but saw they were just incredibly amused.

"That's not my name," he said awkwardly.

"Oh." The woman frowned, studying him a little closer, "you look so much like my third husband."

"We're here to talk about the robbery, Ma'am," Fred told her with a smile, but the woman just looked confused.

"Robbery?"

"Mm-hmm, the one the police talked to you about a few days ago. Someone broke into your old house and stole a stack of bearer bonds, and some jewellery that you stashed under your floorboards."

Something clicked in the woman's head and she nodded knowingly. "Oh, my diamonds, yes. I hid them there," she turned back to Castiel, the dreamy smile returning to her face, "I'm sorry Charles, I didn't trust you. You were quite the bounder."

Fred and Dean grinned at Castiel, amused. "Did you tell anyone where your valuables were, Mrs Tate?" Dean asked. Mrs Tate was quiet for a long time while she thought about it.

"I don't think so," she said finally, "but then I get a little fuzzy sometimes."

"Have you noticed anything strange lately? Cold spots, smell?"

"Well..." Mrs Tate trailed over to look at the home's cat, which was sitting on a coffee table, seemingly disinterested in the world that moved slowly past him. "There's the cat."

Dean and Fred exchanged a glance. "The... cat?"

"He talks sometimes," she nodded, "really hates that mouse."

Castiel nodded seriously and got up from the table. "I'll interrogate the cat."

"Hey, what you got?" Dean asked as he and Fred approached Beatrice and Sam, both of whom looked as clueless and hopeless as they did at the beginning of the case. Beatrice sighed and shrugged.

"Nothing. No hex bags, no EMF, nothing. You?"

"Nada," Dean confirmed, "half the folks we talked to don't even remember being robbed."

They turned to collect Castiel so they could leave, but something caught Sam's eye and he stopped by a pin board which was covered in photos of the different residents. "Dean?" He said, catching his brother's attention when he turned away, "you remember a guy named Fred Jones? I think he was a contact of Dad's, lived outside of Salt Lake."

"Yeah, that guy gave me my first beer," Dean confirmed, "I don't even think I was double digits."

"Right, yeah, me too. Um, he was psychic, right?"

"Psychokinetic. Why?"

"Because he's in room 114."

"Fred," Dean turned to the girl, "get Cas."

"On it." She mock saluted him and went over to Castiel who was crouching in front of the cat, glaring intently at him. The cat stared back, never once dropping its disinterested gaze, "Cas, let's go."

"I've almost cracked him," Castiel protested.

Fred smiled and rolled her eyes, "come on, Dolittle."

He followed Fred up the stairs to room 114 where the others were already waiting for them. Sam knocked on the door, but there was no answer, so he went in anyway. Fred Jones was sitting in a wheelchair in the middle of the room, focused on a cartoon that played on the television, but it seemed as though he was looking straight through it. "Mr Jones?" Sam approached the wheelchair and crouched beside it. Fred didn't react. "Hey, it's uh, Sam Winchester. Fred?"

'_My nerves! Get me a Doctor!' _The cartoon on TV spoke in a shrill voice and Dean scowled, turning it off. Fred still didn't move, and didn't even look away from the screen. "Hey, Fred!" Dean yelled, clapping his hands twice.

"So, you really think this one man is causing all of these shenanigans?" Castiel asked, but he looked dubious.

"Well, if he is, he'd be surrounded by a circle of crazy, right?" Dean said. "Hang on." He picked up a large book from the cabinet beside the TV and offered it to Beatrice, who hit him hard over the head with it. A ring of cartoon birds circled his head, and then disappeared. Dean's face lit up in triumph, "bingo."

"But how?" Fred asked, looking at the old man with an eyebrow raised.

"Fred's got juice," Sam explained, "I mean, an average psychokinetic can move things with his mind, but a guy like Fred... you get him worked up, he can reshape reality."

"Alright," she nodded, "where's his 'off' switch? Do we... kill him?"

"Excuse me, agents," a voice in the doorway caused Fred and the others to whip around. Doctor Mahoney and one of the threatening looking orderlies were lingering in the corridor. "Did she just threaten to murder one of my patients?"

"Real freakin' smooth, Freddy," Dean grumbled. The four of them walked down the corridor. Fred shrugged sheepishly, and Castiel cut in, draping an arm securely around Fred's shoulders.

"Well, we don't have to leave him," he reasoned, "I could teleport him."

Sam sighed, "Fred's radioactive, Cas. You zap him, no telling what will happen."

"We'll circle back tonight," Beatrice said, "get Fred nice and clean. Cas, you go 'invisible girl' and keep an eye on him. You hear me?" She turned around to address the angel directly but he'd already disappeared. "Good."

Fred rushed into the care home's recreation room. "Oh, you got my message," Castiel said from beside the window as he spotted her come in, "good."

"What the hell happened?" She asked, breathless from running.

"There was a pastry mishap."

Fred looked at him for a moment. "Okay?" She said slowly, "_and_?"

"And the frosting reached near supersonic speeds. I thought-"

Dean came in behind Fred, his eyes narrowed, "Fred's gone," he said darkly of the old man and he turned to glare at Castiel, who was sheepishly avoiding the oldest Winchester's gaze. "way to take your eye off the ball, Cas."

A carer spotted them and came over, pushing Mrs Tate in her wheelchair. "You're not supposed to be here," she said accusingly to the four of them. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Well, trust me sweetheart, you got bigger fish to fry."

Mrs Tate turned towards Castiel, her eyes blown wide with panic. "Charles," she fretted, her breathing mask slipping from her face, "Charles, she's wearing my diamonds!" The carer rolled her eyes and tried to push the wheelchair past the three of them but Fred reached out and grabbed her wrist, holding it up to inspect the bracelet she wore loosely around her wrist.

"What?" The carer asked uneasily, "what's wrong?"

"This is Mrs Tate's bracelet. Where did you get it?" Fred demanded.

"My boyfriend gave it to me."

Beatrice pushed open the door to the orderly's house. Worryingly, the locks had been broken, and it swung open easily on its hinges with a high pitched creek. Sam followed closely behind. "Hey," she said softly, crouching down to pick up a handful of papers, "bearer bonds. Maybe these belonged to Sheila Tate."

"So this is our thief," Sam mumbled. He went stiff suddenly, spotting a pair of motionless legs sticking out from behind an upturned table. He snatched his gun from the back of his jeans. "Bea," he mumbled.

Beatrice reached for her own gun and she moved carefully towards the body. The orderly was sprawled on the floor. His face was smeared with blood and he was clutching his stomach where Beatrice could see a gaping wound beneath his hands. Dropping her gun, she reached for the light and the orderly looked weakly at her.

"Alright," she mumbled. "Stay still. Move your hands." He didn't move so she gently peeled his hands from his stomach and held her own hands over the injury. She mumbled to herself in Latin and light shone from her hands. His skin stitched itself quickly back together and he squirmed in discomfort but when Beatrice moved away, he was still smeared in blood, but the wound was healed.

"When did you learn to do that?" Sam asked, in awe.

Beatrice smiled and shrugged sheepishly. "Just some old books." She got up and grabbed the orderly's arm, forcing him to stand up. "Come on," she said tiredly, attempting to push him back into a chair, "sit down."

"Wait a second," he yelled, "what did you just do to me?"

"Hey hey hey!" Sam snapped, "listen to me. Where is Fred Jones?"

"I... he... he took him."

Sam and Beatrice exchanged a glance. "_Who_?"

"Dr Mahoney," the orderly stammered. "That guy's evil, man, okay? He's using Mr Jones."

"How?" Sam asked.

"Look, all Fred does is watch cartoons, but he's magic, okay? A few weeks ago, I... I slammed my foot in his door. I smashed it flat. And I mean _flat. _And then when I shook the thing, it popped back up, like something out of a cartoon, or whatever."

"Yeah, we know," Beatrice sighed.

"So I told Dr Mahoney," he went on, "and then he started doing experiments. Just... we just wanted to see what he could do."

"What about the robberies?"

"Oh, Mahoney's been skimming off Sunset Fields for years. A lot of those folks, they got stuff stashed away, like off the books, like. So Mahoney would track down the loot, and then we would take Fred for a drive."

"And, and use his bubble of weird to rip people off. How did you end up gut shot?" Sam asked.

"Mahoney. After.. after he anvil-ed that guard, he started freaking out, and then.. then you showed up, and then the cake blew in the day room, and then... he lost it."

"What does that mean, 'he lost it'?"

"I mean he's on his way back to the bank right now for one last score. Doc's blowing town. I mean, he said that Fred was a loose end. He was gonna kill him. And then, I.. I like Fred. So I said that if he hurt the guy, I'd go to the cope. And I didn't know that he had a gun!" The orderly broke off to sob into his hands.

Beatrice rolled her eyes. "Okay."

Sam and Beatrice walked up the drive to the Impala where Fred and Castiel were waiting for them. "Do you think Mr Jones knows what's happening?" Sam asked. Beatrice shrugged.

"I don't know," she said, "seems to me like the dude's living in a dream world."

They greeted the two of them casually and went to get into the front of the car but Fred grabbed Beatrice's forearm, stopping her. "There's blood on your hands," Fred pointed out, leaning forward in her seat and peering at Beatrice's hands. The witch shrugged, having failed to disclose her new healing powers.

"It's a long story."

They drove in relative silence other than Beatrice calling Dean to see how he was getting on with babysitting Impala pulled up behind the bank in a dank alleyway. Beatrice got out first, followed by the others. "Alright, Jones has got to be close," she said, coming to a stop by the outside wall, "Fred, we should hit the bank. Sam, Cas, you see if you can find him." She flashed the boys a mock salute and then went with Fred to the front of the bank on the main street.

There was a large black circle on the wall. Beatrice raised an eyebrow, and then tentatively poked a finger into the wall. It disappeared into the circle. Fred dipped her entire arm into the hole. "Awesome," she laughed.

They climbed through the hole into the bank. Dr Mahoney had his back to them and was rummaging through a pile of cash boxes, some which had been emptied probably only moments before. Beatrice placed her hand on her back pocket, ready to draw her gun if things turned nasty. "What's up Doc?"

Dr Mahoney whirled around. His expression was impossible to read, "you let me walk, half of this is yours," he said quickly.

Fred and Beatrice exchanged a glance and then looked to a bag on the table, but only for a second. They didn't want to take their eyes off him for too long. "I think I'm gonna pass," Fred shrugged, reaching subtly for her own gun, "I'm not really into stealing from sweet old ladies."

"I'm not stealing from them," he insisted, "I'm stealing from their children! Little bastards think they can drop their folks off at a home and visit twice a year, maybe. I took care of all these old geezers. I think I deserve-"

"I don't care!" Fred cut him off. Dr Mahoney's eyes narrowed.

"Fine. Have it your way."

Fred lowered her gun a little, just an inch or so, and that was when Mahoney made his move. He started towards the door, pushing between Fred and Beatrice with the bag of money gripped tightly in his hands. Beatrice drew her gun and fired, but instead of a bullet, a flag with the word 'bang!' in red and yellow lettering shot out.

Mahoney paused by the door and turned to smirk at them. "Welcome to the fun house."

He turned and ran. Fred swore, and the two chased after him, finally catching up with him in the corridor. Fred apprehended him from the side, tackling him to the ground. Beatrice, Fred and Mahoney fought for a moment but he managed to throw them both off and he produced a frying pan from his jacket, which he hit both of them with in one sweep. "Give up!" He yelled over the sound of the birds that were circling their heads, "I've been dealing with this crazy for months! And you idiots bring guns to a gag fight."

Beatrice shook off the birds and sat up, "yeah. Well, we did bring this," she held up a can of spray paint that she'd been keeping in her inside pocket, "and 'X' marks the spot."

Mahoney looked down at his feet. Underneath his boots was a large red 'X'. He cursed and dived to the side just as a large anvil crashed to the floor directly on top of the X. Mahoney grinned at them and took off again with the back but when he tried to climb through a second black hole, he only crashed into solid wall. Fred grinned, "looks like somebody turned off the TV."

"Good," Mahoney said. Fred wasn't expecting him to smile. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pistol. "Means I can use this," he aimed it at Fred and Beatrice threw up her arm to stop him, but someone got there first.

"No!" A voice cried behind them. Sam, Castiel and Fred Jones had appeared soundlessly in the bank. "You are never going to hurt anyone again!" Jones pointed a finger at Mahoney and to the doctor's horror, he lifted the gun to his own head, and pulled the trigger. Beatrice dropped her arm and winced.

"Now that's all folks."

Sam turned to Jones. "Fred, you good?"

He laughed bitterly. "_Now _I'm good. In a month, year... nobody gets sharper with age. I'm gonna lose control again, and somebody's going to get hurt, again. You have to make it stop!"

"There might be a way," Castiel said, though he seemed hesitant to share the information, "the procedure will be painful, and when it's over, I'm not sure how much of 'you' will be left."

Jones smiled weakly, "well, what are you waiting for?"

Jones sat in his wheelchair in the middle of the Sunset Fields day room. Sam, Fred, Beatrice and Castiel stood a little way away. Sam looked at the old man with a little unease, "is he uh, is he okay?"

"He's listening to Ode to Joy," Castiel told them, "he's happy."

"Alright, well, let's blow this termite terrace. Cas, you get to ride shotgun." Sam smiled.

"Thanks. But uh, I... I can't come."

Castiel could see Fred's heart break a little. "Why can't you come with us?" She asked in a small voice.

"I, um, I want to stay with Mr Jones. Someone should watch over him for a few days. Just to be safe."

"...Okay. And then what?"

"Then I'm not sure. But I know I can't run anymore."

Beatrice and Sam exchanged a glance and slipped from the day room, leaving Fred and Castiel alone to say goodbye. "It's only goodbye for now... right?" She said, looking up at him with big, sad eyes. Castiel smiled sadly and nodded, before embracing her in his arms. She sighed heavily. "I love you, Cas."

"I love you too."

Since moving into the bunker, Fred felt like she had a proper home for the first time in years. Her room, equipped with a double bed should Castiel make an appearance, was on the right of Dean's room, and opposite Sam and Beatrice's. It felt safe. She was comfortable. She was _happy_, as much as a hunter could be.

Getting up from her desk where she'd been flicking through an old comic book, Fred made her way down the corridor and went into Dean's room. He was placing the final finishing touches into the bedroom. "Wow," she smiled. He startled, and turned to see her in the doorway. "Not bad."

He laughed brightly. "Not bad? I haven't had my own room, ever. I'm making this awesome! I've got my kick-ass vinyl, I've got this killer mattress..." he trailed off to collapse back onto the bed. "Memory foam. It remembers me. And it's clean, too. There's no funky smell. There's no creepy motel stains."

Fred laughed. "I'm gonna go make some lunch. You want some?"

"I would _love_some." He said. Fred turned to go, but Dean called to her, and she stopped. There was something in his tone of voice that immediately set her on edge. "Freddy, when was the last time you saw Cas?"

Fred turned slowly to face him. "Back at the care home."

"So much for 'a few days', huh?"

"Don't remind me," she said grimly. "I've tried praying. He isn't answering. I... I miss him Dean. What if something's happened to him? And I'm just... here. Doing nothing."

Dean could see she was starting to panic and he got up from the bed, embracing her in a quick hug. "Hey, don't worry! It's Cas, alright? He's always fine. You just gotta' have a little bit of faith."

Fred laughed bitterly. "I haven't got much faith left," she shrugged, but she knew he was right. She parted from the hug and went down to the kitchen to cook. When she was finished, she found Sam and Beatrice in the dining room, Beatrice playing with Lavender, while Sam thumbed through an old Men of Letters journal. "What are you reading?"

"Sort of uh, everything," Sam told her. Fred placed the plates on the table and called Dean, before answering Sam.

"Oh, good. Somebody's gonna have to dig through all this, and it isn't going to be me."

Sam smiled and lifted the top bun off his burger. "You made these?"

Fred grinned and nodded, "we have a real kitchen now."

"I know. I just didn't think you new what a kitchen was."

"I'm nesting, okay? Eat." She said. As Dean joined them, the three started to eat. Fred watched them eagerly. "Yeah?"

"Wow," Beatrice nodded. Fred lit up with pride.

"You're welcome!" She was about to make a start on her own plate when her phone rang in her pocket. She sighed, set the plate down and answered it. "Yeah?"

There was panicked, heavy breathing on the other end. Kevin. "Fred? Come quick."

"What? Kevin?" The line went dead. "_Kevin_?"

"What is it?" Beatrice asked with urgency, "something wrong?"

"Guess."

It took them a little while to find Garth's houseboat. When they did, they knocked, but no one answered. The four of them exchanged a glance, and Beatrice kneeled down to pick the lock. Guns drawn, and with Lavender sleeping in her harness on Sam's chest, they went in. "Kevin?" Sam called, "it's us."

The boat appeared empty, but they found Kevin in the bathroom, vomiting into the sink. Beatrice sighed and put her gun away, "found him." She approached Kevin, grimacing, and helped him up after he stopped puking violently. She accompanied him to the small kitchen where he slumped into a chair and wiped his bloody nose with his sleeve.

"Wow," Dean said with little sympathy, "you look like hammered crap."

Kevin didn't appear to take much offence. "Yeah."

"Are you sleeping?" Fred asked.

"Not really."

"Are you eating?"

"Hot dogs, mostly."

"Sure, yeah," Dean scoffed, raising an eyebrow at the young prophet, "breakfast of champions. Look, I'm gonna feel dirty saying this, but you might want a salad and a shower."

"I know," Kevin groaned, "and I've been getting bad headaches and nosebleeds, and I think maybe I had a small stroke." He didn't allow them much time to be alarmed, because he went on quickly, "but it was worth it."

"What was worth it?" Sam asked.

"I figured out how to close the gates of Hell."

There was silence. Dean was the first one to move, "come here, you smelly son of a bitch!" The oldest Winchester lifted Kevin in a hug and swung him around. Kevin laughed.

"Okay, so what does this mean?" Sam asked when Dean put Kevin down, "what are we looking at?"

"It's a spell."

"And?"

"And it's just a few words of Enochian, but..." he trailed off and handed a piece of paper to Beatrice, "the spell has to be spoken after you finish each of the three trials."

"Trials?" Fred raised an eyebrow, "like 'Law and Order'?"

"More like Hercules," Kevin shrugged, "the tablet says 'whosoever chooses to undertake these tasks should not fear danger, nor death, nor...' a word I think means getting your spine ripped out through your mouth for all eternity."

"Good times." She mumbled.

"Basically, God built a series of tests, and when you've done all three, you can slam the gates."

"So... what? God wants us to take the SATs?"

"I guess. Uh... he works in mysterious ways."

"Yeah, mysterious douche-y ways," Dean said crossly, "alright, where do we start?"

"I've only been able to crack one of the tests so far, and it's... gross. You've got to kill a hound of hell and uh, bathe in its blood," Kevin said with a weak grin. Beatrice cringed.

"Awesome," Dean said, without a hint of sarcasm. Beatrice stared at him.

"_Awesome_?"

"Yeah. Hey, if this means icing all demons, I got no problem gutting some devil dog and letting Calgon take me away."

"Where are you gonna find one?" Kevin asked, eyebrows raised.

"Well, Hellhounds like to collect on crossroad deals. So all we've got to do is track down some loser who signed over his special sauce ten years ago, get between him and Clifford the big dead dog... easy."

"Doesn't sound easy." Kevin said hesitantly.

"It's not," Fred muttered to him.

"Look," Dean said to Sam "see what you can dig up. I'm gonna go for a suppl run because we need goofer dust, and the kid needs to eat something that's not ground up hooves and pig's anuses. Not that there's anything wrong with that."

Beatrice awoke from her nap with Lavender on her chest just as Kevin returned from the shower, wearing fresh, clean clothes and with his face clean shaven. "Okay, I feel a lot better," he admitted with a smile. Beatrice, still a little groggy, exchanged a glance with Sam, who was the only other person in the boat. She assumed Fred had gone with Dean to get some groceries. She sat up and placed Lavender on her lap.

"Kevin, buddy, you have to slow down," Beatrice told him gently. He stared at her.

"What?"

"Get some shut-eye. Take a day off. Open a window."

"No! You said nuking hell - that's how I get out! That's how I go home!"

"Right, it is, but you can't live like this."

"You think I want to?" He cried, "I hate it here! I can't leave because every demon on the planet wants to peel my face off. I can't talk to anyone except you guys or Garth, when he swings by, or my mom. Right? And when she calls, all she does is cry! I just..." he sighed, defeated, "I need this to be over."

"I know. I do," she assured him, "but trust me on this, this whole 'saving the world' thing, it's a marathon and not a spring. You've got to take better care of yourself!"

A squeaky door opened and Dean and Fred came into the kitchen. "Hey," Fred greeted them, "did you know there are like, six thousand kinds of tomatoes?" She dropped a heavy paper grocery bag onto the table. "Did you find anything?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded, turning his laptop screen around, "demon signs. Ten years ago, all centred on Shoshone, Idaho."

"Okay, well, big time mojo means a big time freak," Dean said, setting his own grocery bag down, "so, anybody have a horseshoe shoved up his ass?"

Sam chuckled, "that's one way of putting it. Meet the Cassitys, small time farmers who struck oil on their land in February of '03, which is weird because geological surveys-"

"Yeah, you had me at 'weird'," Dean cut him off, "alright, we thinking deal?"

"Best lead we've got," Sam admitted.

"Well, let's go visit the Beverly Hillbillies."

They all got up, including Kevin, but Beatrice turned to him harsher than she intended to. "You stay here. Work on step number two, and if you come across anything about Hellhounds, drop a dime, okay? Because between the claws and the teeth and the whole invisibility thing, those bitches can be... real bitches."

"I got you a present," Fred reached into the grocery bag and tossed two pill bottles to Kevin, both of which he caught with surprising ease, "the uh, the blue ones are for the headaches, and the green ones are for pep. Don't O.D."

Kevin smiled at her weakly and popped open the blue one. "Thanks."

It was such a long drive to the Cassity farm that Beatrice managed to squeeze in another nap. When they pulled up, she felt a little guilty for leaving Maple behind at the bunker. She knew her dog would have loved the big,open spaces on the farm, and she also knew by looking at Sam that he was thinking the same thing. But at least they didn't have to worry about Hellhounds attacking their baby; Fred had volunteered to stay at the bunker and babysit.

"Alright, keep an eye out," Dean said, switching off the engine, "anybody with a Hellhound on their ass is going to be showing signs, hallucinating, freaking out... the usual."

"And if we find someone?" Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

Dean slipped Ruby's demon killing knife out of his inside pocket. "You and Beatrice get them clear, I spike Fido. The crowd goes wild." He put it back in his jacket and the three of them got out of the car.

In the yard, there was a tractor held up by a large jack. A pair of legs stuck out from underneath it. "Hey, pal, who runs this joint?" Dean asked, looking at the legs with an eyebrow raised. The body slid out from under the tractor, and Beatrice saw it was a young, pretty girl. She grinned and held out a hand for them to shake, which they did.

"You're looking at her."

"You own the ranch?" Sam asked.

"Nope, just manage the property. You guys hear about the job?"

"How'd you guess?"

"We get our share of drifters. Ever worked a farm before?"

"Definitely," Dean assured her. She didn't look convinced, so Beatrice quickly added, "we're quick learners."

An older man approached the group, wiping his hands on a rag. "Ellie, who we got here?" He asked.

"I'm Beatrice. This is Dean, and this is Sam."

"Oh." The man smiled, "Carl Granville. A pleasure."

"You're not a Cassity?" She asked curiously.

"No, my wife is. Her and her family own the place. I'm just one of those, uh, what you call 'em?" He paused to pat his slightly pudgy stomach, "trophy husbands. So uh, we hiring them?"

"Not sure yet," the girl answered, eyeing them curiously.

"Oh, come on, they seem swell."

"Well, he's right," Dean smiled charmingly, "we're swell."

The girl hesitated, and then motioned for them to follow her into the barn, which they did, "you bed down in here. Breakfast is at five, dinner is at eight, and in between, you're mine. Questions?" They all shook their heads, so she went on, "okay, job is yours if you want it, but I better warn you; it's crap work."

"Crap," Dean grumbled, shovelling manure into a pile, "she literally meant crap." He dropped the shovel into a pile of hay and eyeballed a horse, glaring straight at it, "I hate you."

"I don't care," a female voice said outside the barn, "do I look like a hippie?"

"Organic food is better for the cattle!" Came the desperate reply. Beatrice recognised the second voice as Ellie, the girl who had hired them at the beginning of the day.

"My land, my animals, my money, my way. End of story."

Footsteps moved away from the barn and Ellie came in, sighing, defeated. "She's a real piece of work, huh?" Dean asked, leaning against the barn wall with raised eyebrows.

"Alice Cassity's a piece of something, alright. But what are we gonna do? She's the boss." Ellie picked up the piece of equipment she'd come in for and then she was gone again, leaving the trio alone.

"So, what are we thinking?" Beatrice asked once Ellie was out of earshot.

"What, deal-wise?" Dean asked. She nodded. "Well, Ellie's the help, so that rules her out."

"And Carl doesn't really seem like the sell-your-soul type," Beatrice agreed, "so... Alice?"

"Ding ding ding."

"Should we talk to her?" Sam asked.

"Why?" Beatrice replied, "so she can lie to us and then call the cops? No, no. We're gonna' have to go stalker on this one, Sammy." Looking at the two Winchester boys, Beatrice couldn't hide her grin.

Beatrice was on the verge of falling asleep when she was jolted awake by the sound of sirens, followed by loud wailing and crying. She sat up in bed, dazed and rubbing her eyes, looking to the brothers for answers. Both of them looked equally clueless. Beatrice got out of bed and dressed quickly, and then followed Sam and Dean out to the yard. The sheriff was standing over a body, covered by a sheet. Carl's boots were sticking out from underneath it. He was speaking to another officer, and as they approached, Beatrice could just catch snippets of the conversation; something grisly about heads being torn off. Ellie was standing to the side, looking understandably unsettled. "I'm sorry, Ellie," Beatrice said softly, placing a gentle hand on Ellie's shoulder, "Carl seemed like a good guy." Ellie sighed mournfully and shrugged.

"The best."

The sheriff started towards them and Beatrice quickly asked, "you say his head was practically ripped off?"

The sheriff eyed her suspiciously, "and you are...?"

"Just curious."

"She's new," Ellie cut in quickly, "she works here."

"Carl died bad," the sheriff told them, "let's leave it at that. They've been introducing wolves 'round these parts, but I never thought..." He trailed off, shaking his head and slipping off his hat as a sign of respect. Ellie scoffed.

"This wasn't a wolf. I got to make some phone calls. The whole family's flying in for this."

"All the Cassitys under one roof. Good luck."

The sheriff took off towards his car with the officer and Ellie disappeared into the house. "Son of a bitch," Dean cursed, furious they'd missed their only opportunity to slaughter a Hellhound and complete the first trial.

"So, what do you think?" Sam asked.

"I think Carl signed the deal, and now he's dog food," Dean grumbled, "Hellhound's gone, and we were too busy chasing a pile of Jack to stop it. Let's grab our stuff and get out of here."

Beatrice was the first back to the barn, leaving Sam and Dean to continue talking in the yard. Alice was already there, brushing a horse, but her expression was vacant. "You okay, Mrs Cassity?" Beatrice asked softly. Alice jumped, startled by Beatrice's sudden appearance, but other than that she didn't seem effected at all.

She smiled faintly and nodded. "Fine."

"You sure?"

"I really am. And... I know I shouldn't be, because I loved Carl... I think. I just can't remember why."

Beatrice frowned, "what do you mean?"

"I mean... Carl grew up around here. We went to school together, and he was always mooning over me. But I never... I used to make fun of him," she admitted. She looked quite distressed by the revelation.

"When did you two get together?"

"Valentine's Day, 2003. I was at this party. Carl was there, and it was like I was seeing him for the first time. You know, suddenly he was cute and smart and funny. It was magic. Carl and I were happy for ten years. Now he's dead, and I'm not sad, or... or angry. I'm just... fine."

Beatrice smiled, a little awkwardly, "excuse me."

She rushed past Alice and the horses and found Sam and Dean in the bedroom the three of them had been sharing. When she went in, Dean addressed her without turning around, "hey, we uh, we have any graveyard dirt?"

Beatrice raised an eyebrow, "we should. Why?"

"Yarrow?"

"Yeah... no, Dean. No. We're not summoning a crossroads demon."

"Plan 'A' bombed, so welcome to plan 'B'. We get some red eyed bitch in a trap, then we hold a knife on her until she calls us in a pooch. Special delivery." He looked at her over his shoulder and grinned.

"Yeah," Beatrice said sarcastically, "except when Crowley finds out we're dialling up Hell, he won't send one Hellhound; he'll send a hundred. That's not a plan, Dean. That's suicide."

"Well, you got a better idea?" He challenged her. She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, we stay here. I just talked to Alice in the barn. Carl didn't sell his soul for oil; he sold it for Alice."

"His wife?" Sam jumped in, coming out of the en suite bathroom.

"He loved her," Beatrice confirmed, "she barely noticed him, so he made a deal, and now that time's up. It's like... it's like she barely even knew the guy,"

"You think our demon signed up more than one schmuck while he was in town?" Dean asked.

"Wouldn't be the first time," she nodded, "look, this family's rich because someone booked a one-way ticket downstairs. As of tomorrow, they're all gonna be right here."

"And you want to scope 'em out?"

"I want to kill a Hellhound and not die," she sighed, "how about you?"

"Two days," Dean agreed, finally, "and then we do it my way."

The next day started with the greeting of the Cassity family. A large SUV pulled up in the yard, where Ellie, Sam, Dean and Beatrice had been patiently waiting for the past hour. An older man got out of the front, and Ellie mumbled to them, "Meet Noah Cassity. He's seventy one, worth a billion, and just married wife number five; a twenty year old lingerie model."

Dean looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Because they have so much in common?"

"Alice is his oldest," she went on, "and that's Cindy, the middle girl." On cue, a pretty blonde woman got out of the car, dressed in a mini-dress and dramatic fur coat. "She had a single on the country chart a few years ago. Then, she started hitting the bottle, and... well. Her last album was a bunch of holiday songs for dogs. My favourites were 'Jingle Bark Rock' and 'Don't Pee on this Tree: Happy Arbour Day'."

"So she's the devil?" Beatrice snickered.

"Pretty much." Ellie confirmed. Finally, a much younger girl in a sweater and tan pants got out. "And there's the baby; Margo. She ran away just before Alice and Carl tied the knot. Lives in Paris."

"How do you know all this?" Sam asked.

"I've been working on this farm since I was thirteen, and I've got eye.s Okay, tonight is an all-hands-on-deck situation. I'm going to need two of you inside, serving dinner and pouring drinks - a lot of drinks."

"Okay, well, have fun," Dean grinned, clapping Sam on the shoulder, "I won't wait up."

Ellie sighed and rolled her eyes, "and somebody's gotta man the grill."

Dean raised an eyebrow, "what kind of grill?"

Beatrice felt very out of place in a nice shirt and skirt. She rolled her sleeves to her elbows and smoothed the wrinkles in her skirt before picking up a tray and carrying it into the dining room where the Cassitys were sitting around the table, bickering. Sam was already in there, pouring wine into Cindy's glass. "Al, I'm so sorry about Carl," Margot said softly, pushing food around her plate with her fork, "I mean, he was the love of your life."

Alice swallowed hard. "Right."

"Please," Noah laughed, "she can do better."

"Maybe Alice should marry a child," Cindy cut in bitterly, "take after her father."

"Ivanka's not a child."

"Right; she's a prostitute who looks like a child."

"Are you done?" Margot snapped, "Alice is in mourning."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Margie," Cindy went on with a sarcastic smile, "I didn't see you there. You're too far up on your high horse. Oh, yes, but you are right. We should all take a minute and say a few words about Carl. You first," she leaned across the table to eyeball Margot, and with a grin she said, "was he a good lay?"

Alice nearly choked on her steak. "_What_?"

"Oh, you didn't know?" Cindy said with mock surprise, "yeah, Daddy caught 'em going at it in the barn."

"Al, it was before you two got together," Margot said quickly, "I mean, Carl, he loved you!"

"Yeah," Noah added, "that was back when Margie was fat and Cin was sober; a long, long time ago."

"Get cancer and die, old man," Cindy spat.

"You first, sweetie."

Beatrice joined Sam and Ellie at the back of the dining room, "are they always like this?" She asked in a hushed tone. Ellie laughed quietly and nodded, punctuation with a little shrug so she wouldn't drop the wine bottle she was carrying.

"More or less."

"How can you work here?"

"I love the property, I love the animals, and I tune out the people."

"Well, I can't remember the last time we all sat down and had a meal together," Alice said as she forked at her dinner. Judging by her expression, she was hoping her comment wouldn't ignite another argument. Cindy nodded thoughtfully and took a short drink of white wine before she answered her.

"It was back at the old, crappy house, when Daddy invited that travelling salesman to dinner."

"He was so charming," Alice said fondly.

Beatrice hadn't been paying much attention to the conversation until then, but that peaked her interest and she exchanged a glance with Sam who was clearly thinking the same thing she was. "What was his name?" Noah pondered through a mouthful of steak, "...Kenny? Crow... Crowl..." He trailed off, looking at his daughters hopefully.

"Crowley?" Margot offered.

"Crowley!" He said triumphantly.

"Ellie, would you excuse us a moment," Beatrice said softly. She grabbed Sam's arm and tugged him outside where Dean was leaning against the grill, flicking through an old farming magazine. "Dean," Beatrice hissed to get his attention without alerting the Cassitys in the dining room through the open window, "Dean, it's Crowley.

Dean's face sank. "Oh no. _Crowley_?"

"That's what they said," Sam sighed, "apparently he swung through town ten years ago, to the day."

"So, what? Do you think tea and crumpets made these deals and now he's collecting?"

"Or he just sent his dog, told it to go fetch," Beatrice deduced with a helpless shrug, "Dude's king of Hell. Grabbing a few souls, that's got to be below his pay grade."

"I guess," Dean admitted, "any idea who signed the dotted line?"

"I have no clue. It's brutal in there." Beatrice said. In her pocket, her phone rang suddenly and she jumped, but pulled it out and answered it. "Hey, Kev, what's up?"

"Hey, Bea. Good news. Uh... I think. Kind of." Kevin's voice came through the speaker.

"Don't oversell it," she said sarcastically.

"Sorry," Kevin apologised, "um, I found something on the tablet, uh, about Hellhounds. Uh, this mean anything to you? 'The dire creatures may be seen only by the damned or through an object scorched with holy fire.'"

"Like... with holy oil?" Sam asked who had heard part of the conversation.

"It's got to be," she nodded, "we could use a window. Or... glasses."

"I think we still got some Jesus Juice left in the trunk," Dean grinned, "alright, I'll take care of the uh, the X-ray specs. You stay here. Do not let J.R and the gang out of your sight, alright?"

"Right." She turned her attention back to her phone, "hey, Kevin, uh, you did great, man. Get some sleep."

"Okay. Thanks, Bea."

The line went dead. As Dean went towards the car, Sam and Beatrice went back into the dining room to clear away the empty plates. The room was empty other than Cindy who was stood by the window, sipping wine and looking out into the yard, "oh, look," she said tiredly, "Daddy's drunk and armed. Must be Christmas."

Sam rushed to the window, followed by Beatrice. Noah and Margot were both heading towards the woods, carrying a rifle each. Beatrice cursed under her breath and sprinted into the yard. "Hey, hey hey!" She yelled. Noah and Margot both stopped and turned around, "where are you going?"

"Wherever I damn well please," Noah told her fiercely, "the wolf that killed my son-in-law, he's a man eater. Got to be put down." Even from where she was stood, Beatrice could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Doing this for Carl," Margot added.

"Okay, just... hold on a second!"

"No." Noah insisted, "going now!"

"I'll come with you," Beatrice offered quickly before they could disappear completely among the trees.

Noah glanced at her over his shoulder, "you know anything about hunting, girl?"

Beatrice smiled weakly. "A little bit. Yeah."

Margot grinned and handed her rifle to Beatrice which she took and handled with ease, surprising both Noah and Margot. They moved further into the forest as thunder rumbled overhead. Behind them, Beatrice heard a branch snap and she whirled around, rifle raised. There was no one there, and when she turned around again, Noah and Margot were gone. "Shit." She mumbled. She moved into the underbrush alone, but suddenly, something smooth and round pressed into the back of her neck. She turned, grabbed Noah's rifle, and pushed it away.

"Watch yourself, girl," he warned her, "where's Margie?"

"I thought she was with you."

Somewhere within the trees, Margot screamed. Beatrice took off towards the sound in time to see the invisible Hellhound tearing into Margot's flesh. She screamed one final time, then the hound ripped her throat open and she was quiet. Beatrice shot twice at the Hellhound and heard it scamper into the forest, whimpering in pain. "Oh my God," Noah stammered, appearing behind Beatrice, "No!" Beatrice turned and gave him a gentle push back towards the farm.

"Go back to the house," she warned him. "Go. Now!"

He made no attempt to move so she lifted a hand and forced him backwards telekinetically. He looked at her, terrified, and then turned and ran. Beatrice swore again and then went into the yard where Sam and Dean were waiting for her. "Margot is dead," she told them darkly, "there was nothing I could do."

Sam and Dean nodded solemnly. The three of them went back into the house where Noah, Cindy and Alice were sitting, all them distraught and slightly hysterical. "What was that thing?" Noah demanded. "And what are _you_?" He pointed at Beatrice, who rolled her eyes and ignored Dean when he glared at her for revealing her powers to them.

"To answer your second question; a Witch. To answer your first, it was a Hellhound. See, when you sell your soul to a Demon, they're the ones that come and rip it out of you."

"D-Demon?" Alice stuttered.

"Crowley," Dean said, "poncey guy. About... yea big. Mountain of dicks. We know he was here ten years ago, making dreams come true. Now, if you didn't sign, great. That freak out there won't touch you. But if you did, I need to know, and I need to know now. So... hands up." He looked at them expectantly. Nobody moved.

"So, wait," Noah said, "the British guy was a Demon, and now there's a Hellhound after us? Are you insane?"

"They're obviously insane," Cindy nodded.

"Don't play dumb," Sam warned her. She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I'm not playing. I didn't sell my damn soul."

"Well, somebody did, and the sooner that idiot owns up, the sooner the rest of you can go," Beatrice snapped. Everyone was quiet. She sighed, "alright, seal 'em in."

"What?" Alice demanded.

"Look, I'm gonna spread goofer dust around the doors and windows. That will keep the Hellhound out for a while."

"How long?" Noah asked.

"Long enough for me to stab it in the throat," Dean said casually.

"No way. No way! You can't do this, you can't-"

"Yes I can," Dean snarled, "you want to know why? Because it's what I do. And buddy, I'm the best. See, I gut old-yeller out there, and maybe, just maybe, you walk away. I don't? You're meat. So sit down, shut up," he paused to hold up a pair of shiny handcuffs, "and put these on."

While Sam poured goofer dust around the entries, Beatrice helped Dean wrestle the Cassitys into handcuffs. "Who are you people?" Alice asked. Her voice was weak and filled with fear. Beatrice sighed.

"We're here to help."

"Like you helped Margie?" Noah hissed at her.

Beatrice ignored him. "When the Hellhound gets close, you might start seeing things, hearing things. It's gonna feel like you took the brown acid, and it's trying to kill you. The handcuffs are so you won't hurt yourselves."

"Yeah," Dean went on, "and when one of you starts bugging out, we'll know who's on tap to be puppy chow."

Beatrice followed Sam and Dean into the kitchen to talk privately away from the prying ears of the Cassitys. "So, what's our play?" She asked, leaning against a counter top. Sam opened his mouth to speak but Dean cut in first.

"Well, the two of you camp here, figure out who whored their soul. I'm gonna go scout the grounds, see if I can't gank Huckleberry Hound before he makes his next move."

"Well, you're not going alone, Dean," Sam said, "I'm gonna come with you."

"Wrong."

"Uh, they're on lock-down, and you need backup."

"No I don't."

"Yes you do!"

"No, I need you to be safe, Sam, okay? You and Bea. That's what I need."

"_What_?" Beatrice looked at him like he'd lost his mind, "what am I... when are we _ever _safe?"

"This is different!" Dean insisted.

"How?"

"Because of the three trials crap!" He said, raising his voice at them, "God's little obstacle course. We've been down roads like this before, with Yellow-eyes, Lucifer, Dick friggin' Roman, we all know where this ends. One of us dies, or worse!" He was looking at them so intently that for a moment, neither of them dared speak, until Beatrice spoke softly.

"So, what?" She said, "you just up and decide it's gonna be you?"

"I'm a grunt, Bea. You're not. Neither is Sam. You've always been the brains of this operation."

"Dean-"

"And you told me yourself that you see a way out," Dean said, ignoring her interruption, "you both see a light at the end of this ugly ass tunnel. I don't! But I tell you what I do know; it's that I'm gonna die with a gun in my hand. 'Cause that's what I have waiting for me. I want you to get out. I want you to have a life, become a man of letters, whatever. You two, and Lavender. Have some more kids. And grandkids. Living until you're fat and bald and chugging Viagra. That's my perfect ending, and it's the only one that I'm gonna get. So I'm gonna do these trials. I'm gonna do them alone. End of story! You're staying here. I'm going out there. If landshark comes knocking, you call me. If you try to follow me, I'm gonna put a bullet in your damn leg."

At the end of his rant, he stormed out of the kitchen and slammed a door behind him. Neither Sam nor Beatrice moved for a second or did anything at all. After what felt like an eternity, Beatrice held her hand out towards him and he took it, and together they went back into the living room. They both put on the glasses, oiled for them by Dean and went over to the window. To kill time, Beatrice listened absently to the Cassitys argue.

"You sold your soul," Cindy accused her father, "admit it!"

"Why the hell would you think that?" Noah shot back.

"Because you're a walking corpse, and you're married to a centrefold. I did the math."

"She likes money, and I'm rich. Do it again. You sing like crap, so explain the music career."

"Hello! Auto-tune!"

"Alright," Sam said tiredly, turning to face them, "that's enough."

"Oh, is it, four eyes?" Cindy taunted him, "is it enough?"

"I don't know why you even think one of us made a deal," Noah said angrily.

"Because you struck oil where there was no oil. That doesn't seem weird to you?" Beatrice asked.

"Margie," Alice said weakly, "Margie used to say that... that if we were rich, we'd all be happy."

"Right," Noah scoffed, "we're the damn Waltons."

Alice suddenly freed herself of the handcuffs, the same time that Beatrice spotted the outline of the Hellhound in the trees. She shot from the house into the yard. Sam chased after her, and Beatrice watched through the window as Sam caught her before she reached her car, and carried her back into the house.

Beatrice ran out of the room towards the barn. Dean was on the floor underneath the creature, struggling violently to throw it off. She reached for her gun but Sam got there first and shot it from behind her. It yowled and abandoned Dean, instead bounding towards Sam and knocking him to the ground. Sam struggled to free his knife from his belt under the beast's snapping jaws, but when he did, he managed to slit the hound's stomach. He was drenched in black blood, and the Hellhound collapsed to the ground, dead. Dean propped himself up one elbow, gasping, while Beatrice helped Sam sit up. He looked at his hand, still clutching the knife, and let it crash to the floor.

Beatrice sat tentatively on the edge of Ellie's bed, watching her bandage Dean's side which had been clawed horrifically by the hound. Sam was in the doorway, watching with an unreadable expression. "You need to go to a hospital," Ellie said softly. Dean laughed bitterly and shook his head.

"I've had worse."

Ellie looked to Beatrice who smiled and nodded. "He's had worse," she confirmed.

"So... what now?" Ellie asked.

"Now, we make a hex bag and you start running," Beatrice told her with a slightly weaker smile, "if Crowley can't find you, then he won't be able to set another hound on you."

"So I'm not going to Hell?"

"Not on my watch," Beatrice promised her, "will you give us a minute?"

"Sure." Ellie got up and left the room, closing the door behind her. Beatrice felt the tension between the brothers, but she didn't dare move, or make any noise. Sam was the first one to talk.

"Dean, even if she can dodge Crowley, as soon as Ellie dies, her soul is earmarked for Hell." He said tensely.

"Not if we shut it down first." Dean said. He pulled the spell out of his pocket.

"The spell's not gonna work for you, Dean," Beatrice reminded him.

He ignored her, and read the spell anyway. "Kah-nuh-ahm-dahr." He looked around, but nothing happened. "Doesn't matter," he shrugged, "we'll track down another Hellhound, and _I'll _kill it."

"No." Sam said firmly.

"Sam, I didn't pass the test."

"But I did. And I'm doing the rest of them."

"My ass you are!"

"I'm closing the gates. It's a suicide mission for you."

"Beatrice, would you tell him?" Dean demanded. Beatrice said nothing.

"I want to slam Hell shut too, okay? But I want to survive it. I want to live, and so should you! We have friends here, family! I mean, hell, you even got your own room now. You were right, okay? I see a light at the end of this tunnel. And I'm sorry you don't, I really am. But it's there, and if you come with us, we can take you to it."

"Sam, be smart," Dean warned.

"I _am s_mart. And so are you. You're not a grunt, Dean. You're a genius, when it comes to lore, you're the best damn hunter I have ever seen. Better than me, than Dad... I believe in you, Dean. So, please, believe in me too." Sam pleaded. Dean hesitated, and then passed the spell to his brother. "Kah-nuh-ahm-dahr."

There was a 'whoosh' of air. Sam dropped to his knees, clutching his arm in visible agony. "Sammy?" Beatrice cried. She rushed to him, but Dean held her arm, preventing her from going to him. "Sam!"

The veins in his arm glowed white for a moment. When it faded, he looked up at them with a weak smile. "I'm good." He assured them, though his voice was strained. "I'm okay. I can do this."

The bunker was eerily quiet when they arrived home. Something didn't feel right. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of Beatrice's stomach, and she immediately found herself calling out for Fred. "Freddy?" She yelled. "Fred, where are you?" In return, there was only silence. Beatrice exchanged a glance with the brothers.

She armed herself with a handgun and went into the library. For a moment, nothing seemed out of place, and then she saw Fred on the ground, with Lavender cradled in her arms.

There was a pool of nearly dried blood surrounding them. She was completely still for a moment, but Lavender's screams snapped her back into reality and she stumbled forward, picking her daughter up. Fred didn't move. Her stomach was near enough torn open. Her gaze was vacant and empty, but Beatrice didn't think she'd been dead for long.

Suddenly, Beatrice screamed.

Sam and Dean rushed into the library. "Oh my God," Dean groaned. "What the hell happened?"

"Is she...?" Sam looked at Beatrice, terrified of the answer. She nodded shakily. She handed Lavender to Sam and she moved slowly towards Fred. Kneeling down beside her, she placed a hand on Fred's forehead. Her skin was cold. "What are you doing?" Sam asked, watching her with wide eyes.

Beatrice shushed him. "I'm trying to read her memories. But I don't know if it will work, I've never done it with... with a dead person before." Her voice cracked and tears rolled down her cheeks.

She was there for a moment, and was about to give up, but then a strong vision hit her and she was blown backwards. "Bea!" Sam yelled, rushing towards her. Beatrice stirred almost immediately and she looked up at him, struggling to fight back the tears that were already streaming down her face. "Bea, what is it?"

"They... they knew about Lavender," Beatrice stammered. "Demons. They knew where they were, and they went after them when Fred took her to the park. They were trying to end the bloodline. The... the Winchester bloodline. Fred died protecting her. She managed to bring her back here, and she prayed for Castiel... but..." She trailed off with a sob. "She's only been dead an hour. We could have saved her!"

"Can't you do something?" Dean demanded, "y-your healing powers?"

"I can't resurrect people," she whimpered, "only heal wounds."

Dean let out a cry and looked up towards the ceiling. "Castiel," he cried, "Cas you need to get down here."

"It isn't safe for her here anymore," Beatrice whispered, looking to Sam who was cradling their daughter, staring at Fred with wide eyes, wet with tears. "We have to protect our daughter."

"I thought Castiel was supposed to be protecting her," Sam said quietly.

"And clearly we can't rely on him! If they're looking for her, she isn't safe to be around us."

"So what do you suggest we do?" Sam demanded. "She's our baby, Beatrice!"

Beatrice shook her head, "I know that! But I think I know what to do. Just... just until things blow over. Until the trials are completed." She pulled out her phone and dialled the number quickly. For a second, she didn't think there'd be an answer and she was ready to hang up, but then the line clicked. "Jody?" Beatrice said. "It's Bea. I have a little job for you."

Beatrice felt like a terrible mother.

She had sent her baby away.

She felt responsible for Fred's death.

Part of her knew she had done the right thing to keep her family safe, but the bunker felt empty without Fred and Lavender around. And they still hadn't heard from Cas. Did he even know Fred was gone? Did he care? The thought enraged Beatrice. He claimed he loved Fred, but Beatrice was no longer sure.

She got out of bed and went into the dining room. Sam and Dean were sat around a laptop, talking in hushed voices. Beatrice thought they were holding up surprisingly well, considering how long they'd known Fred and how close they'd been. "Morning," Beatrice said from the doorway, startling them. "Find anything?"

Sam smiled weakly at her. He knew how much she was struggling without their daughter there. He could see the pain in her eyes every time he looked at her. All he wanted to be able to do was relieve her of that pain. "Hey, you," he said softly, "I did. Dead bodies showing up all over the Midwest last week. Benton, Indiana. Downers Grove, Illinois. Uh, Novi, Michigan, and then again in Lincoln Springs, Missouri."

"And how is this us?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because each of the victims had severe burns around their eyes, hands and feet, puncture wounds through the backs of their hands, eyes and internal organs liquefied."

Beatrice nibbled her lip. "That sounds like us."

"Yeah. Also, no link between any of the victims. Uh, one was a real estate agent. Another was a local historian. Woman killed last night was a teacher."

"So, Chupacabra?" Dean suggested with a smile. "What do we got? Power tools gone rogue? Wait... are we talking a 'Maximum Overdrive' situation here?" He was starting to get more and more excited.

"I don't know," Sam shrugged, "worth a shot, though. I'll grab my gear. We should probably leave in five." He got up from his seat at the table and moved towards the exit. He noticed Dean was still thumbing through a vintage porn magazine and paying very little attention, "unless of course you need some more time with Miss October."

"What?" Dean looked up. "Oh, yeah. Yeah. Make it ten." He smiled at Sam as he left and went to throw the magazine into the trash can. Inside was a bloody tissue. His face fell and he looked over at Beatrice, tilting the can to show her. She chewed her lip nervously. As if they didn't have enough on their plate already, and now Sam was lying to them.

"We just have a few routine follow up questions about your wife, Sir." Beatrice said to the man softly. He seemed distant and like he was on the verge of tears. "Did she have any enemies?"

"Ann?" Mr Morton looked at Beatrice. His eyes were wet with tears. "Honestly, I can't think of a soul who'd want to hurt her. Even after everything that happened." Beatrice exchanged a glance with Sam and Dean.

"Everything that happened?" She pressed lightly.

"About a week ago,something changed in Ann. She was out of sorts, not herself at all. She stopped sleeping." He motioned for the trio to follow him down into the basement, which they did. "She stopped eating. She went out in the middle of the night, going God knows where. I tried to talk to her, but uh, she would just mutter to herself."

As Mr Morton switched on the lights to the basement, revealing a small model of their city in the middle, Sam asked, "about what?"

"Something... about an orchard? Finally, I just followed her one night, and she went to the playground, over here, the elementary school," he trailed off to point at the little cardboard school on the table, "and she started digging. She would leave with these little bags full of dirt. Hung them here," he lifted a finger and Beatrice looked up to see a selection of dirt filled plastic baggies hanging from the ceiling, "all these bags represent holes that she dug in the ground."

"Were these holes, uh, I don't know... six feet deep?" Beatrice suggested.

"No," Mr Morton sighed, "she dug for hours. She never broke a sweat. Straight down ten, maybe fifteen feet."

"Did you notice anything else?"

"I didn't say anything to the cops because I didn't want them to think I was crazy," Mr Morton said quietly in a strained voice, "after Ann came home, I came down here to confront her, and she was on the phone."

"Any idea who she was talking to?"

"No. But I know what I saw. And it wasn't my Annie. After I called her out, her eyes... they turned black. Now, I-I know I must have imagined it. I know I did. But I... I left. I went to the bar, probably had too much to drink, and by the time I came back..." he trailed off and sighed deeply, "my Annie was, uh.. I should have stayed. I should have protected her. I'm moving into my sister's place today. I can't be here anymore."

"Sure," Sam said sympathetically, "well, um, thank you very much for your time. We're all very sorry for your loss."

The three hunters left the house and approached the Impala. "So, somebody's killing demons," Dean said, "well, that is awesome. I feel like we should send a card, or flowers. What kind of flower says 'thanks for killing demons'?"

"Yeah, but who's killing demons?" Beatrice mumbled,"and why? And, by the way, since when does a demon possess someone, then go all 'Beautiful Mind' and... and start digging in the dirt? Does any of this seem right to you?"

Dean sighed deeply, "I like the part about killing demons. That sounds right."

Sam came back to the Impala at the same time as Beatrice. She was armed with bags of greasy fast food for Dean and herself, and a chicken and avocado salad for Sam, while he had a mobile phone in his hand. Dean looked at them both expectantly as they approached and Sam spoke while Beatrice handed out lunch. "So, real estate guy's wife said he was acting weird. Uh, historian's hubby said the same... just got all obsessive and then weird. No one saw any black eyes, but still, where there's smoke, you know... I wonder what they're all looking for."

They finished their food and approached a large, fancy house. "Well, Wendy Rice was the last person to speak with Ann," Beatrice said, "so let's see if she can tell us." She rapped lightly on the door.

A woman with brightly coloured rollers in her hair opened the door and smiled at them. They all held up their fake FBI badges. "Special agent Lynne, these are my partners. We'd like to ask you a few questions about Ann Morton."

"Oh," she chuckled nervously and played with one of the curlers in her hair. "Uh, uh, of course. Please come in. I had never met her before she called the other night."

"Why was she calling you?" Sam asked as Wendy stepped aside to let them in.

"She was looking to find an original map of the city."

"Did she say what for?"

"Well, she.. she didn't, but she did mention an old orchard that had gone missing."

"Missing?" Dean pressed with a raised eyebrow.

"This town was wiped from the Earth by one of the river's one hundred year floods. It was... it was rebuilt. But all of the original records were... were lost. I'm a PhD candidate. And this is my research. I uh, my dissertation is... is on the history of this town and uh, it's connection to the underground railroad and... and... and whatnot. I've been working to recreate a map for years as part of my research," she paused to show them a sketch of a map in a large pink binder, "and this... this is the old Jakubiak orchard there. I found out yesterday it's where Downey meets Bond Street."

"Did Ann say why she was looking for the site of an orchard?" Beatrice asked.

"No. We... we set a time to meet, and she never showed. Then I read about her in the paper. It's just tragic. Ann's assistant called this morning, though, asking if I still had the map."

"Assistant?" Sam frowned, but was interrupted by several urgent knocks on the door.

"Oh, that's probably him. Maybe he can help!" She left the living room and went towards the front door. The trio followed. Three men were standing at the door. When they met Wendy's gaze, all of their eyes turned black. Wendy screamed and tried to back away but one of the demons threw her backwards and she crashed into a table, unconscious. The demon who attacked her grabbed the map and ran, leaving the other two alone with Sam, Dean and Beatrice.

Beatrice lifted a hand to attack one of the demons but before she could, black smoke erupted from it's mouth and flew into Wendy's; possessing her. Her eyes snapped open; black. She got up and rushed towards the door, pursued by Sam and Dean, while the third demon lunged at Beatrice. She readied herself for the attack, but before the demon could reach her he collapsed, his eyes burned out of his skull. Behind him was Castiel.

Beatrice was silent. She glared at Cas who was sitting awkwardly on the other side of the room while Dean pressed an ice pack to Sam's swollen shoulder. "The other demon escaped," Castiel told them, "I bound the one I caught in a devil's trap. I'm going to interrogate it now." He made a move to get up but Beatrice cleared her throat, and he stopped.

"Wait a second," she snapped, "how about you answer some questions first? Like, where the hell have you been? Did you even hear our prayers? Fred is dead, Castiel. Did you know? Did you even c_are_?"

"Yes, I heard your prayers, and... yes. I knew about Fred. But that's not why I'm here. I've been hunting demons."

"So this is you." She said coldly. "Why?"

"I've been searching for the other half of the demon tablet," he admitted.

"Without us?" Dean demanded.

"I've been trying to help, Dean." Castiel said tiredly. He looked up at them weakly. "And in my search, I uncovered that Crowley has sent out demons to find Lucifer's crypts."

"Lucifer had crypts?"

"Dozens of them, apparently."

"But why the storage wars?" Beatrice frowned, "I mean, what the hell are they all looking for?"

"They're looking for a parchment that would allow them to decipher Crowley's half of the demon tablet without a prophet." The angel explained. This peaked Beatrice's interest again.

"A demonic decoder ring? In Crowley's hands? Awesome," she said sarcastically.

"The crypts were, uh, lost over time. Only those closest to Lucifer knew their whereabouts."

"Then how did Crowley find them?" Sam asked.

"His demons have been possessing locals who may have some special knowledge."

"That would explain the crazy room at Ann's house. But how did they know where to start looking in the first place?"

"I don't know," Castiel admitted, "I'm hoping the strange haired demon in the kitchen is more knowledgeable than the others I interrogated." At that, he got up and went into the kitchen to interrogate the demon possessing Wendy. Beatrice sighed in frustration and dropped her head to her hands.

"Well, he puts the 'ass' in 'Cas', huh?" She grumbled.

"He's definitely off," Sam agreed.

"Off? He hasn't been right since he got back from purgatory. We still don't know how he got out of there."

"I don't know, Bea. If he's so sketchy then why were you praying to him?"

"Because he abandoned us, Sam." She said angrily. "He let Fred die. He didn't even come to her funeral."

"You know," Castiel's voice came from the kitchen, "I can hear you. I _am_ a celestial being."

Sam and Beatrice exchanged an uncomfortable glance and the three of them went into the kitchen where Castiel had been interrogating the demon. She was tied to the table, her arms strapped down tightly. "Sam and Dean Winchester, and little Beatrice." She lifted her head a little to look at the brothers, "oh, the thoughts she had about you two boys." Her eyes rolled to look at Sam, "mostly you, Sam. What can I say? She has a thing for mutton chops."

"Alright you Douchebag," Dean started, "listen-"

Castiel plunged his angel blade into the back of Wendy's hand and her scream cut Dean off. "Who told you about the crypts?" Castiel demanded, his voice raised.

"I thought angels were supposed to be the good cops," Wendy panted, so Castiel stabbed her other hand. She screamed again. "Wait!" She cried, "stop. Stop! We have a hostage! It's one of Crowley's pets. She's at the Murray Hotel, down by the interstate. She knows the towns were all the crypts are buried. She saw them all back in the day!"

"And she told you about the parchment?" Beatrice asked.

Wendy looked at her cluelessly. "What parchment?"

"Think he's the only bad cop in this room? Stop lying! We know what you're really looking for."

"No, I am telling you, we're looking for-" She started but Castiel plunged the blade deep into her chest and the demon stopped moving. Sam, Dean and Beatrice all stared at him like he'd gone insane.

"Cas! What the hell was that?" Beatrice demanded.

"It told us what we needed."

"No, she didn't! You can't just-"

"I started this hunt without you because I didn't want anything to slow me down. We have to get to the motel now." He moved towards the kitchen door but Beatrice grabbed his arm. Her grip was fierce and he glared at her, but then there was a rustle of wings and the angel disappeared. Beatrice stared at her empty hand for a second.

"Dammit!" Dean yelled, "go. Go, go!"

They pulled up outside the hotel within ten minutes, having violated a handful of traffic laws to do so. They raced through the hallway in time to see light shine brightly from underneath one of the closed doors. Beatrice blew it open. A demon with burnt out eyes fell atop the corpse of a second demon. Castiel was stood over both of them.

"Thanks for waiting," Sam said sarcastically. Cas didn't pick up on it.

"The hostage is in there." He nodded his head towards a bathroom, which was locked from the outside with a key none of them had, so Beatrice lifted her hand and knocked it down.

Meg was sitting on the floor.

She was tied up, bruised and smeared with blood, and her hair was long and blonde. She grinned at them, tilting her head to the side. "Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?"

Beatrice went into the bathroom and silently helped Meg to her feet, untying her wrists and helping her sit on the bed, disturbingly close to the two demon corpses on the pale blue carpet. "So, I got to ask," Beatrice said awkwardly, sitting beside the demon, "what's with the hair?"

"Aww," Meg laughed brightly, "thanks for noticing, Bea. But this wasn't my idea. It was Crowley's. And just another reason I want to stab him in the face."

"Wait a second," Sam cut in, "you've been telling Crowley the location of Lucifer's crypts."

"What can I say?" She smirked, "I needed a break from the constant torture. And I did visit them all during my time with Yellow-eyes, but don't worry. I haven't exactly been giving them the Glengarry leads."

"You mean you've been lying to them?" Castiel said.

"I just get them in the ballpark. Enough time's passed and enough's changed that they bought it."

"Why lie?" Dean asked.

"Buy myself some time, dummy. Try to find a way to get free."

"Wait... so, a bunch of innocent people died so you could buy yourself some time?" Beatrice demanded. Meg looked at her, raising an eyebrow and patting her patronisingly on the shoulder.

"Hi, I'm Meg. I'm a demon."

"So, what have they found?" Cas asked, ignoring the girl's exchange.

"Bupkis," Meg smiled deviously, "every crypt's been one Al Capone's vault after another. And on top of that, someone kept picking up the trail and icing demons. I'm guessing that was you, Castiel. But Crowley just keeps sending more. He's hell-bent on finding that angel tablet."

Beatrice stared at her, "wait a second. Did you just say 'angel tablet'?"

"Yes," Meg repeated tiredly, "angel tablet. Crowley found out Lucifer had it. Figures it's stashed in a crypt."

"Well this is news to me as well," Castiel added, but when Beatrice looked into his eyes she saw a glimmer of something that she didn't trust, "demons I interrogated, they must have been lying about their true intentions."

"Really?" Beatrice snapped, "because I saw you 'Zero Dark Thirty' that demon. You were more than persuasive."

"You're all missing the point," Meg reminded them, "I lied to them, which means they're digging in the wrong place, but not for long. They'll be back here soon. So, who's up for fleeing?"

"She's right," Beatrice admitted, although she really didn't like to side with the demon, "we need to find those crypts before they do. Meg, you're the only one who's been there. We need your help."

"Any of you dummies got a map?"

The group crowded around the model village in Mr Morton's basement. "There," Meg said, tapping a little cardboard building, "that's where the crypt was."

"What's there now?" Beatrice asked, eyebrow raised.

Meg rolled her eyes. "Do I look like Google to you? None of these buildings were here way back in the day. Figure it out, genius. is there any booze in this dump?" She walked up the stairs into the house and Castiel followed. Dean, Sam and Beatrice remained in the basement. There was somewhat of an awkward silence as they all thought about the Castiel situation.

"He lied to us." Dean said quietly.

Beatrice sighed and shrugged, defeated."Yeah. Maybe. I can kind of understand why, I mean, an angel tablet? If the demon tablet can shut off the gates of Hell, what can the angel tablet do?"

"Here goes," Sam mumbled. He went across the basement to Mr Morton's computer and booted it up, opening up a map of the city. "Alright, according to this, the crypt has to be below an abandoned building." He pointed to a small highlighted section of the map. Beatrice peered at the screen over his shoulder.

"Good times." She said, "you really think we can trust, uh, Megstiel?"

"No," Sam said, "but what choice do we have?"

The three of them went back upstairs. Meg and Castiel were sitting at the sofa, regarding one another somewhat longingly. Beatrice's stomach lurched with rage. Fred wasn't long dead, and he seemed to have already moved on, with Meg of all people. She was furious. She did her best to swallow her anger as Dean said, "alright. Let's roll, campers."

"So, this is it." Meg said, getting out of the Impala and looking up at the abandoned warehouse.

"Alright," Dean said, "Cas and I will head in and get our Indiana Jones on. Sam, Bea, the two of you stay outside with Meg." He started towards the warehouse but Beatrice gabbed his arm and stopped him. He looked at her over his shoulder with narrowed eyes. "We got this," he said, a little coldly.

"What are you talking about, Dean?" Sam said, "we're not letting you go in there alone."

"He won't be alone," Castiel said.

Beatrice turned to him and glared. "That's not what we mean. Meg can hang here, watch our backs."

"Oh, what? Now you trust Meg?" Dean scoffed.

"Hey, I got you this far," Meg reminded them.

"Shut up," Dean snapped. He turned to Sam, "I saw your bloody rag in the trash can, okay?"

Sam's face fell. He looked at Beatrice, and she looked away sheepishly. "That wasn't-" He made a feeble attempt to defend himself but Dean held up a hand and sharply cut him off.

"Stop. Just... stop. Sam, we don't know what's in there, okay? And you almost let a Demon get the best of you back there."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not fine. You haven't been fine since the first trial," Dean said angrily, "that's why I called Cas."

"Trial?" Meg perked up, interested. Beatrice turned on her with a minor snarl.

"Shut up, Meg," she warned her.

"I'm telling you, I'm okay!" Sam insisted.

"No you're not," Castiel cut in, looking at Sam intently, "Sam, you're damaged in ways even I can't heal. Dean's right; you should stay here and protect Meg."

"Since when do I need protecting?" Meg scoffed.

"Since you were held captive and tortured for over a year."

"Touche."

"Alright, we'll be back." Dean nodded. Castiel started towards the warehouse, so Dean handed Sam an angel blade and then motioned for Beatrice to follow him and Dean, clearly changing his mind on her position in the mission. They went on ahead but Beatrice lagged behind a little, placing a little kiss on Sam's cheek and then talking so Meg couldn't hear.

"You be safe."

"Hey, what did you mean back there about Sam?" Beatrice asked Castiel as she caught up with him and Dean. She sounded a little hesitant, and Castiel could tell she didn't really want to know the answer but he knew he needed to tell her anyway, lest he face her wrath for the second time that day.

"It's difficult to say," he admitted, "it's something on the subatomic level, and his electromagnetic field-"

"Okay, bottom-line it for me Bill Nye," she sighed, "is it lethal?"

"I don't know." He stopped ahead of them, holding a hand up to stop them too. "Wait." He rested his hand lightly against the cement wall and his face fell, "there's a draft. There's something behind there. Stand back." The hunters obediently took a step back and Castiel pressed harder against the wall, which cracked under his fingertips.

It crumbled away and Beatrice climbed into the room behind the wall, followed by Castiel and Dean. The room was dank and dusty and filled with spider webs and black mould. She cringed. "That's it," Castiel said behind her, pointing towards a small item Beatrice didn't recognise on an otherwise empty shelf.

"How do you know?" She asked, shining her torchlight over the object.

"It's the only thing in here warded against angels." Castiel explained. Dean went over to the object and placed it on the table, using a small knife to lift its lid and peer inside. He grinned triumphantly and lifted out a cool slab of stone. "Good," Castiel said, "hand it to me, and I'll take it to Heaven."

"No, we'll take it to Kevin so he can translate." Beatrice said. Dean handed the stone to her and she clutched it protectively, ready to defend it against Castiel if she needed to.

"Right," Castiel forced a smile, "of course. I'll take it to him right away, no time to waste."

"Well, he's not that far away," Dean said, "we've been meaning to go check on him, bring him some supplies."

"I can resupply the prophet, Dean," Castiel insisted. He moved to take the stone from Beatrice but she held it a little tighter to her chest, taking a step back from him.

"You know," she said, "why don't, uh, why don't Sam, Dean and I take it over to him, and you can get back to your mission? Finding the other half of the demon tablet, that is priority, isn't it?"

"I can't let you take that, Beatrice," Castiel warned her. Beatrice narrowed her eyes.

"Can't or won't?"

"Both."

"How did you get out of Purgatory, Cas? Just tell us how you got out of Purgatory. Be honest with us, for the first time since you've been back," her grip slackened a little on the stone, "and this is yours." Castiel's blade slipped from the inside of his sleeve into his hand. "Cas," she said, backing away, "Cas, I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, but if you're in there and you can hear me, you don't have to do this." He lunged at her and she dropped the stone, but it was caught by Dean, who Castiel slashed at with the Blade. "Cas!" She cried.

"Cas, fight this! This is not you! Fight it!" Dean yelled. Castiel slashed at him again but Dean deflected the blow with the stone. Castiel let out a growl and gripped his head like he was in unspeakable pain.

"What have you done to me, Naomi?" He cried.

"Who's Naomi?" Beatrice demanded. She placed a hand on Castiel's shoulder but he backhanded her and threw her into a wall. She slumped to the floor, dazed, and watched as Castiel snapped Dean's arm and forced him to drop the stone, which shattered and revealed the tablet inside. Castiel hit him again and again, and Beatrice tried to get up to rescue her friend and slaughter Castiel where he stood, but the angel flung an arm towards her and she found herself stuck to the wall. She screamed in frustration and struggled against the spell but couldn't go anywhere.

Dean looked over towards the tablet. "You want it?" He challenged Castiel, who said nothing, "take it! But you're gonna have to kill me first. Come on, you coward. Do it. Do it!"

"Cas, this isn't you!" Beatrice sobbed, watching Castiel repeatedly beat Dean, "_this isn't you_!"

"Cas," Dean said weakly, reaching out and trying to grasp Castiel's arm, "Cas, I know you're in there. I know you can hear me, Cas. It's me! We're family. We need you. I need you. Fred needed you!"

At the mention of his soulmate something flickered in Castiel's eyes and his blade dropped to the ground. "Cas?" Beatrice whispered. Castiel ignored her and picked up the tablet, regarding it silently. He tucked it in his jacket and went over to Dean, placing his hand on the side of his face. Beatrice panicked. "Cas? No! Cas! _Cas_!"

Under Castiel's hand, Dean's skin knitted together and healed. Castiel had tears in his eyes. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"What the hell just happened?" Beatrice demanded, getting shakily to her feet. The two of them listened silently as Castiel woefully explained how he had been under Naomi's control, fulfilling her commands. Beatrice was quiet for a second as Castiel finished, and then said, "so... this 'Naomi' has been controlling you since she got you out of Purgatory?"

"Yeah."

"Well... what broke the connection?" She asked.

Castiel smiled weakly and looked towards the ceiling, and then further towards Heaven. "Winifred. I just... I just know that I have to protect this tablet now."

"From Naomi?" Dean asked.

"Yes. And from you."

"From us? What are you talking about?" Beatrice said, but Castiel, (and the tablet), were gone, leaving the pair of them alone in the room. "Cas? Cas, dammit!" She yelled. Behind them, Sam rushed in, breathless and visibly panicked.

"Where's Cas?" He demanded, his voice shaky.

"He's gone," Dean said, "Meg?"

"We got to go; now!"

They raced outside into the yard and piled into the Impala, and pulled away just in time to see Crowley sink an angel blade into Meg's middle, and throw the demon's corpse to the floor.

"So, what happened?" Sam asked, his eyebrows raised, "I mean, Cas touched the tablet and it restored him to his factory settings or something?"

"I don't know," Dean said darkly, "and I don't care. All I know is that he is off the reservation with a heavenly WMD. Listen, man, I can't take anymore lies. From anyone."

"Yeah," Sam said awkwardly, "um, I know. I'm sorry. I should have told you both. I... I just wanted to believe I was okay."

"Well, you heard what Cas said," Beatrice cut in, "that that first trial hurt you in ways that even he can't heal. Sammy, I need you to be honest with me from here on out, my love."

"You're right. And I will be."

"Listen, Dean and I may not be able to carry the burden that comes along with these trials, but... we can carry you."

"You... realise you kind of just quoted Lord of the Rings, right?"

"Come on," she laughed, "but it's the Rudy Hobbit, alright? Rudy Hobbit always gets a pass. Shut up."

Beatrice threw open the church door. Crowley was still bound in the chair as Sam hovered over him, lowering his hand towards the demon. "Sammy, stop!" Beatrice yelled. Sam's hand froze in mid air and he turned back to face Beatrice with wide, frightened eyes. "Easy there, okay? Just take it easy. We got a slight change of plan."

"What? What's going on? Where's Dean? Where's _Cas_?"

"Dean's outside. Metatron lied. You finish this trial, you're dead, Sam."

He looked at her for a second, puzzled. "So?" He pointed to Crowley. "Look at him. Look at him! Look how close we are! Other people will die if I don't finish this!"

"Think about it," she pleaded, "think about what we know, huh? Pulling souls from hell, curing demons, we have enough knowledge on our side to turn the tide here. But I can't do it without you."

"You can barely do it with me. I mean, you think I screw up everything I try. You think I need a chaperone. Remember?"

"That's not what I meant!"

"No, it's exactly what you meant! You want to know what I confessed in there? What my greatest sin was? It was how many times I let you down! Let my _family _down. I can't do that again."

"Sam-"

Tears began to well in Sam's eyes. "What happens when you've decided I can't be trusted again? I mean, who are you and Dean gonna turn to next time instead of me? Another angel? Another... another _vampire_? Do you have any idea what it feels like to watch your wife and your brother just-"

"Hold on!" She interrupted loudly. "You seriously think that? Because none of it, _none of it_, is true! Listen, Baby, I know we've had our disagreements, okay? Hell, I know I've said some junk that set you back on your heels, but Sammy, come on, Dean killed Benny to save you. I'm willing to let this bastard and all the sons of bitches that killed Fred walk because of you. Don't you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you. It has never been like that, ever! I need you to see that. I'm begging you!" Beatrice looked at him desperately and she saw him relent.

"How do I stop?" He stammered.

"Just let it go." She said softly.

"I can't," he sobbed, "it's in me, Bea. You don't know what it feels like."

"Hey, listen, we will figure it out, okay? Just like we always do. Come on." She held out her arms and he fell into them, sobbing. "Come on, let it go, okay? Let it go, Sweetheart." His head dropped to her shoulder and she cradled him lightly. "Why don't we go visit Lavender in the morning, huh? I bet she'd like to see you." She suggested. The orange in his veins faded a little and Beatrice smiled warmly at him, "see?"

He looked up at her and attempted a weak smile back but then he doubled over in pain and she had to hold him up. Panic rose in Beatrice's stomach and she supported him out to the Impala where Dean was waiting for them. He got out as soon as he saw them and helped Beatrice lower Sam gently to the ground. "Sam?" Dean cried, "we got you, little brother. You're gonna be just fine." Sam groaned in agony, leaning on Beatrice. "Sam? Sam!"

"Cas!" Beatrice screamed to the sky. "Castiel, where are you?"

Small lights appeared in the sky that could have been shooting stars but in each falling shape, she could make out the silhouette of burning wings. "What's happening?" Sam croaked.

"Angels," Beatrice stammered, "they're falling."


End file.
